


Shadows of a Troubled Past

by Murdocisurproblematicfave



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: AU, Angst, Childhood Murdoc, Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murdocisurproblematicfave/pseuds/Murdocisurproblematicfave
Summary: The bassist's acceptance of his sexuality was a long, drawn-out process, tainted with years of self-denial and hatred, times when he tried not to acknowledge his sexual attraction towards men in any way. When he met Stuart Pot after a gig, all of that dramatically changed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU set mostly in 1997, in which Murdoc is touring with his band 'Murdoc's Burning Sensations', and he had never met Stuart, Noodle, Paula or Russel.

8th January, 1997.

Murdoc tore into the strings on his bass, his fingers moving fast and professionally. Every so often Murdoc would lean into the microphone and sing his shrill vocals, staring intently at his audience. He was performing at some dingy pub with his band 'Murdoc's Burning Sensations', and he knew all eyes were on him; he revelled in it.

A paper banner with their band name scrawled messily across it was hanging loosely above his head, lazily taped to the top of the stage. Murdoc knew the place was rough. The pub had the misfortune of being situated down an intimidatingly dark alley in Shoreditch, London. Most people with common sense wouldn't even give the dilapidated venue a glance as they walked by.

However, in his prideful eyes, the bassist had sang amazingly that night. Despite his full view of the paint cracking away from the pubs walls and the less than receptive audience full of druggies and weirdos, he still performed like a rock god. He humped his bass with the same vigour that he always did, singing with unrelenting enthusiasm. He knew that as long as there were eyes on him, he would always work hard to impress. Murdoc still fondly remembers that gig as one of his all time favourites.

Due to the pub's general dinginess, it was fairly unpopular. The audience had far too many gaps in it than Murdoc would have liked, and most of the sods were drunk off their mind. Probably trying to will away the memories of ever coming to such a decrepit place, Murdoc thought. However, despite the less than favourable atmosphere, Murdoc always liked to take a good look at his audience when he was performing, really drink them in. It was a habit of his that he still did to this day.

Back then, while Murdoc was in the throws of his virility, Murdoc's keen observance mostly functioned as a method of getting an idea of how many attractive women were in attendance. Often, Murdoc would spot a sexy woman and direct his performance at her. Subtlety really wasn't his thing all those years ago, as he tended to prefer unabashed flirting from a distance. I mean, who could resist a rocker in a band? It wasn't rocket science that most women would fall over themselves for a piece of him.

Murdoc would flash sexy women cheeky glances, winking occasionally and smiling devilishly whenever he had the chance. All of his efforts would often come to fruition when he made his approach later on at the after party. Murdoc was smug in his knowing that it always went down an instant kill. He was undeniably irresistible, and unapologetically aware of it.

This night played out how it usually did for Murdoc. While tearing out one of the band's particularly loud songs, the bassist took a moment after his solo to wipe sweat from his brow, ruffle his sweat sodden hair and look up. His eyes flitted quickly across the audience, peaking out below his fringe. He was well trained in this excersise, and spotted a woman with long, thick brown hair and full red lips in the far back. She had an hour-glass figure, eccentuated by the tight black dress she was wearing. It hugged her hips beautifully, and Murdoc knew instantly that she would be his.

He began to almost immediately craft in his mind a way to get in her pants. What has worked for him in the past? Complementing them? Buying them a drink?...Now that's a classic. It's overt and allows Murdoc to easily break into conversation with her during the after party. No hassle required.

Murdoc finished the performance, ending by recklessly throwing his bass onto the floor and standing in a powerful stance, arms outstretched and eyes directed towards the audience in a confident glare. If the band was named after him, Murdoc had to make it known as to why, and it worked. The crowd were particularly rowdy at this point, due to how much alcohol they had all collectively gulped down at the bar. It was a pub full of drunken heathens, and Murdoc flashed a toothy grin when they went wild, screaming and yelling at the top of their voices. In that moment, it all felt so easy.

Murdoc, while picking up his tattered bass when everyone started to leave the stage and head once again towards the bar, saw the woman that he had been eying up also walking in the bars direction. However Murdoc's smug expression, that was still lingering from the audiences positive reception, dropped suddenly when he saw her walking and conversing with another man. With all the work Murdoc had just put in, all the sweat he had shed in his efforts to impress this sodding woman, Murdoc was certainly not having that. He stared the other man up and down, sizing him up with his beady, black eyes from his vantage point of the pub stage.

The other man was astonishingly tall, and as he turned his head to look at the woman, Murdoc studied the side of his face. He looked younger than Murdoc, maybe by ten years or so. His hair was a shocking electric blue, jutting out at all directions in an unruly manner from the man's head. He definitely dyed it, Murdoc judged. Maybe he was some kind of punk? Murdoc's stare moved downwards, as he observed how skinny the man was. Under his black jacket and dark grey skinny jeans, the man had a lamp-post like stature, and legs that seemed to go on for miles.

Murdoc reasoned that with gangly limbs like that, if a bar fight was to occur between the two over this woman, it wouldn't be hard for Murdoc to come out on top. Murdoc was shamelessly experienced in the art of being a home-wrecker, and he was adamant that tonight would still go his way. 

Murdoc packed up his bass and put it in a back room. He then wordlessly parted from his other band mates as they walked into the after party. His fellow band members were well accustomed to Murdoc's disappearing acts on a night out, and didn't protest. They didn't seem to mind the absence of the bassist's company whatsoever..suspiciously so. Murdoc had often thought that it was very possible that they didn't like him.

The four of them had banded together mostly of duress, a carnal hunger for riches and an easy way to get women. Not 'true friendship' or anything.. that sappy stuff wasn't really Murdoc's style. Also, there was the fact that in Murdoc's eyes, as the bands namesake, they all fell secondary to him. Murdoc was very vocal about this, he didn't want any uprisings happening against him. It was his band and hey, that was just how the world worked. The lot of them just had to get used to it.

As Murdoc exited the back room, his eyes flitted as he began to scope the place out. He caught sight of that weird blue haired guy again, near the bar. He used the tall man as a marker for the girl's location, seeing as they were annoyingly together. He looked to the man's side and sure enough, there she was, in all her sumptuous splendour. She was stood waiting at the bar, presumably for a drink. Murdoc couldn't help but scowl a little as he saw the blue haired tent-pole man share a laugh with her, propping an elbow on the bars surface and leaning closer to the woman. So he's friendly with her..too friendly. The bassist knew he had to interject, and reasoned self-assuredly that it was nothing a little Murdoc charm couldn't change.

Murdoc licked his palm and smoothed his unruly hair down, then proceeded to adjust his jacket suavely in preparation for his approach. The bassist unfortunately had no alcohol in his system, but he tried valiantly to fight the shudders down. He needed to seem cool, relaxed, if this was going to work. If that didn't pan out, Murdoc always opted for plan B: pure, unrelenting persistence. But first, he had to be rid of the lanky guy.

He sidled up to the pair in an ambling swagger, every so often shoving people in the queue out of his way. One older woman who was particularly annoyed at being shoved, vocalising this with an "Oi, Watch it!". Murdoc was quick to retort, and he made sure he was within earshot of the girl he was trying to impress. "Excuse you, hag. Don't you know who you're talking to? I'm Murdoc Niccals, from the band 'Murdoc's Burning Sensations'. Now bog off". After spitting out this killer insult, he turned his back on the old woman and continued to walk up to the bar, keeping a careful eye on the whereabouts of his prize lady.

Murdoc positioned himself at the bar, leaning back on it in a relaxed gesture, body angled tactically, facing the brown haired beauty. He made sure he was close to her, but not too close as to not raise suspicion. Murdoc's initial game plan was to impress, seemingly without even trying. Although Murdoc had stooped pretty low in his time to get a woman's attention, there was nothing worse than a beg. The bassist brought his arm up and visibly clicked his fingers when he saw the barman working in his periphery.

The barman, albeit with a look of dismay, faced Murdoc, who rudely didn't even turn to make eye contact. "A bottle of whiskey" Murdoc demanded, placing a £20 on the bars wooden surface. The barman tutted, but served the bassist, salvaging a bottle from the fridge behind him and then placing the bottle onto the bar with force to express his annoyance with the slimy rocker. Murdoc took the whiskey and began drinking from the bottle. He then proceeded to make unrelenting eye contact with the woman, quietly yearning for her attention.

Soon enough, she turned to look at the strange goth staring at her, breaking conversation with the blue haired man, who Murdoc couldn't really see from the angle he was at. "Can I help you?" she said in a bitter tone, obviously annoyed that he had been watching her for a frankly uncomfortable length of time.

Murdoc smiled, unaffected by her annoyance. "Yes... Yes you certainly can.." Murdoc said gruffly as he took a step closer to the woman. He noticed that from this close, the woman in her high heels was noticeably taller than him. He tip toed subtly in response, and placed a hand on the bar behind her back. "What is a lovely thing like you, doing in a dingy place like this?" the bassist whispered in the most flirtatious tone he could muster. The woman smiled dryly as if to mock Murdoc a little, which the bassist didn't appreciate. She spoke up quickly after looking Murdoc up and down. "I'm not interested, sorry. I'm happily taken".

Murdoc exhaled in disappointment. He knew it. He knew that blue haired twit was her man. He honestly didn't have the energy to try any more, seeing as the way the woman had spoken to him also left a sour taste in the bassist's mouth. So instead, he just thought he'd throw a few insults to keep his dignity.

She wasn't all that anyway, and nor was her lanky boyfriend. Murdoc felt anger boil up within him and he needed to make it known. "So you would choose _that_ over me?" Murdoc spat, as he stepped to the side a little so he could see the lanky man fully. Murdoc's anger dissipated within an instant, and his mouth embarrassingly dropped open slightly in shock when he got a frontal view of the other man's face.


	2. Chapter 2

  
...He had no eyes. Murdoc tilted his head and observed with a morbidly curious expression. No. Eyes. The bassist spoke before he had even thought about what he was going to say. "What the ever loving fuck. Where have your eyes gone mate? You lost 'em or something?".

The blue haired man itched his arm awkwardly at Murdoc's brash comments. It was obvious the other man didn't know what to say. However, in his typical manner, Murdoc kept digging. Seeing that the other man stood no chance against him in his nervous state. The bassist took a few steps closer and looked through narrowing eyes at the other man's black scleras. "What in the hell happened to you?" he asked in a hushed tone, tilting his head again curiously. Murdoc patronisingly waved a hand in front of the other man, and observed how the lanky guy's head tilted very slightly in relation to where the bassist's hand moved. "...How can you see me?" Murdoc asked inquisitively.

The other man smiled a little despite his awkwardness and answered Murdoc's rude questions. He had a cockney accent, and a shaky, bumbling tone to his voice. It was almost funny. "I had an accident with some formaldehyde when I was in school. I can still see you because they have only changed colour... My eyes didn't fall out or anything".

Murdoc looked a little closer at the man's eyes, the lanky guy towered well above Murdoc, who subsequently stood on his toes a little to get a better look. Murdoc noticed how the man's eyes glinted slightly as light reflected off their glassy surface. "Ah..." Murdoc automatically vocalised upon this confirmation, still a little dumbfounded. So there are eyeballs in there, Murdoc thought.

  
The girl abruptly stood between the two men. She spoke angrily, facing Murdoc with crossed arms. "I don't appreciate you trying to chat me up like some old pervert and then berating my friend here with your rude questions". Murdoc quickly pulled away from the other man at the jarring tone of her voice, and started to process what he had just heard. "...Friend?" Murdoc said in a hopeful tone. The girl quickly retorted. "Yes. Friend. We aren't together..that'd be weird. He's gay anyway" she stated.

Murdoc, who was completely ready to insult the pair and abruptly leave a minute ago, began to pipe up again. She said she had a boyfriend, but he wasn't here. Murdoc reasoned that whatever the poor sod didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. The bassist made an effort to look unassuming and sympathetic in order to still be in with a chance of pulling her, despite the odds being very much stacked against him at this point.

"Oh.. I'm so sorry darling-". He pulled his mouth into a devilish smile. She still didn't look impressed. Murdoc, noticing her straight face, thought on his feet and tactically changed the subject. "-Anyway...what are your names? What brought you to my neck of the woods?" Murdoc inquired innocently.

The girl's expression softened the tiniest bit, and she spoke up. "I'm Paula, he's Stuart. We're here cos we were bored.. we both share a flat down the road, so we thought why not see what's on". Murdoc nodded, and inquired further. "Did you see me perform? Yanno, with my band-'Murdoc's Burning Sensations'?".

Murdoc hoped that she would have been impressed by his bass shagging-it was hard to find people who weren't, quite frankly. "Yeah I saw it". She answered hesitantly. "It was...interesting. You put on a great show, but that music style isn't really my cup of tea. Stuart liked it though". Murdoc took a long swig of whiskey at her disappointing response and then peered with a despondent gaze at the blue haired man. "Course he would.." Murdoc muttered under his breath, barely audible. Why did he even bother, he wondered.

Paula finished her drink and turned around, placing the empty glass on the bar. "Sorry guys. Need to nip to the loo. Be right back, Stu" she said, and proceeded to grab her purse and push through the crowd in the direction of the toilets. Murdoc stared after her until she was no longer in sight, overtly gazing at her swaying behind in that tight skirt. She's a bit standoffish, he thought. But at least she was engaging with him. It will only take a few more drinks before she is drunk enough to possibly consider Murdoc an option..he just had to work on his sweet-talking.

While Murdoc had been thinking, he had totally forgotten Stuart was even there. He broke out of his trance and looked the taller man up and down, studying him with judgement in his eyes. "You don't talk much.. do you?" Murdoc finally asked. Stuart, who had been on his phone, quickly placed it in his back pocket and looked down with wide eyes at Murdoc. He looked a bit nervous, like he didn't know what to say.

Murdoc spoke up again. "So...Paula said you liked my music. You a big music fan?". Murdoc thought he may as well make conversation, seeing as they were both unfortunately alone together. Stuart smiled slightly and answered. "Yeah, a huge music fan infact. I'm a musician and a singer in a band". Murdoc's eyes widened slightly at this answer, maybe the kid wasn't as weedy as he had initially thought.

"Ah right, What kind of music?". Murdoc asked, before taking another long swig of whiskey. The bassist never failed to take the chance to talk about music. Stuart smiled. "We do all sorts. I don't really like to stick to a genre... don't like to feel boxed in. It's fun to just do whatever sounds good. Maybe a lot of my stuff is inspired by bands I listened to growing up.. like The Clash, The Human League and loads more. Yanno 'em?" Stuart inquired hopefully. Murdoc nodded. "Yes I do. They're good. Not exactly what I listened to growing up, I was more the heavy metal type. Black Sabbath and the like. But, I like all kinds of different genres when it comes down to it. Hey, we should collaborate one day, kid".

Stuart smiled at this, and pulled his phone once again out of his back pocket. He pressed a few of the buttons and then handed it to Murdoc. "Put your number in here and I can contact you to arrange a jamming session.. if you want". Murdoc raised an eyebrow at the phone being held out to him, but then obliged and keyed his number in. Musicians were never usually this eager to collab with him..maybe the guy was just desperate to have the privilege of making music with the amazing 'Murdoc's Burning Sensations', the bassist thought. Can hardly blame the poor sod.

As Murdoc handed the phone back to Stuart, the other man hastily broke the silence. "So, what got you into playing bass?" Stuart asked, placing the phone back in his pocket. Murdoc smiled fondly at this question. It wasn't often that people took such an interest in him, it was all rather flattering. "Well-" he leaned against the bar in a chilled-out stance. "I loved 'In The City' by The Jam. You know it?". Stuart nodded affirmingly. "Yeaaah. Great song. I thought the bass line on it was fantastic, really cop-show like. After hearing it, I couldn't help but pick up a bass and give it a whirl". Murdoc was almost in a trance at this reminiscence. However, he looked to the other man and spoke up again. "What do you play? Actually, let me guess..".

Murdoc excitedly studied the man as he took another long swig of whiskey. The alcohol was starting to kick in now, giving him a much needed boost in confidence. After a few moments, the bassist quickly came to a realisation. "With fucking massive hands like that, you must play keys, right?". Stuart laughed loudly at this comment and splayed out his hands. "You're right! But my hands aren't that big, you tosser!" He said jokingly. Murdoc retorted through a toothy grin. "Mate, they are huge. Look".

Murdoc brought up his hands and placed them on Stuart's, palm to palm. He smiled smugly at the confirmation that Stuart's hands were considerably larger than his, the other man's long fingers could almost curl over and envelope his own. Stuart gave in at this, and let out a defeated "Alright, alright. Maybe they are". They began laughing loudly together once more.

"Am I...interrupting something?". The two men turned their heads quickly. Paula had returned from the toilet, and raised an eyebrow at them, eyes flitting down to their touching hands. Murdoc quickly retracted his palms from Stuart's, and took a large step back from the other man; he hadn't realised until that moment how close they both were. The bassist answered her in a confrontational tone. "No, of course not" he retorted quickly.

Paula smiled knowingly and looked to Stuart, who itched his arm nervously, eyes firmly on the floor. "Okaaay.." She said. "Anyway, Stu. I have to go, Russel has been a first-class idiot and forgotten his keys again. Need to go let him in". Stuart nodded. "You wanna come with, or stay here?" she asked. Stuart considered this question for a moment, and appeared hesitant at first. Murdoc was still a complete stranger to him, but somehow they had seemed to instantly click, despite their differences.

He smiled to Murdoc and then looked back at Paula. "Nah, i'm gonna stay here for a little while. See you later Paula". Paula proceeded to hug Stuart and begrudgingly waved goodbye to Murdoc. She then turned and began pushing her way through the crowd once more, leaving the pub through the open backdoor.

There she goes. Any hope of Murdoc pulling tonight, leaving faithfully with her. He sighed deeply at his misfortune. "You alright?" Stuart asked Murdoc, interrupting the bassist's thoughts. Murdoc answered in a solemn tone that took Stuart slightly aback. "Why is it that the hot ones are always taken, eh?" Murdoc inquired, still staring at the pub exit where he last saw Paula, like a yearning lover.

A smile crept onto Stuart's face in response to Murdoc's words, eventually evolving into a toothy grin that the man could barely fight back. The younger man was tipsy at this point, his inhibitions evidently peeling from him layer by layer. Murdoc, noticing that Stuart had not answered yet, looked to the other man and raised an eyebrow in surprise when he saw how red-faced and giggly Stuart had become. "What are you laughing at, twerp?" Murdoc asked quickly, with a twinge of anger in his tone.

"She hasn't got a boyfriend Murdoc" Stuart blurted. "She lied to you". At this, Murdoc was dumbfounded for a moment, but quickly collected himself. "And that's really funny to you, is it?" Murdoc asked the other man in childish annoyance. The bassist then proceeded to take another long swig of his whiskey, averting his eyes away from Stuart in anger. Murdoc wasn't good with rejection. He had dealt with copious amounts of it as a child, from nearly everyone he knew in some way or another. Rejection trailed after him like a bad omen and he never truly brought himself to acknowledge it.

Stuart, noticing that he had struck a nerve within the bassist, spoke up quickly. "She just wasn't interested. Sorry Murdoc. If it helps..." Stuart began, with a small smile on his face. "..I think you're a catch" he said shyly. Murdoc glared at the other man, his black eyes just visible below his fringe. Stuart's comment didn't help, and Murdoc found himself not really knowing what to say back. He glowered a little, finished his bottle of whiskey and placed it clumsily onto the bars surface.

The bassist brushed over Stuart's strange complement, and broke the tense silence between the two men. "I'm sick of girls. They never really want you..and if they do, they make you chase 'em. What the fuck's that about?". Stuart looked sympathetic, but found himself a little speechless. He couldn't really relate. Murdoc grumpily continued. "I need a break from all the chasing, hard-to-get bullshit. Maybe today will be my night off, a night where I don't worry about pulling women".

Murdoc looked out to the dance floor and was surprised at how busy it was. At this point in the night, nearly everyone was drunk out of their minds, and dancing like unabashed maniacs. Murdoc quickly judged that neither himself nor Stuart were drunk enough to venture onto it yet. He thought for a moment about what the two of them could do with their night.

"Shall we just go walking around? This pub is a shit hole..We could go find somewhere better" Murdoc finally proposed. Stuart agreed with the bassist, and quickly finished his drink. He then extended an arm in a subtle gesture as to chivalrously let Murdoc lead the way, and they headed to the pub exit.


	3. Chapter 3

  
The two men stepped out of the pub onto the empty streets of Shoreditch. The gentle breeze blew cold, and ran teasingly through their hair. Stuart's head tilted upwards as he caught sight of the stars dotted about the late dusk sky. Despite the sound of the lingering muffled pub music, it felt so abruptly calm. Tranquility like this in London was a rarity, and the two men felt totally at ease as they proceeded to walk side by side down an adjoining street, without any particular destination in mind.

  
"So, what's your deal then in London? Do you and your band perform around here?" Murdoc asked, genuinely intrigued. Stuart nodded, and put both hands shyly in his pockets as he walked. "Yeah, we do gigs all over the shop. We just finished a tour in Japan actually, cos our guitarist Noodle is from there". Stuart, who was looking at the floor as he spoke, began to smile slightly. "Never in my life would I have thought I could go to Japan... I lived a small town life before London. Now I look back, that whole Japan tour feels like one big blur".

Murdoc smiled wisely. "You're still fairly young, what are you.. Like twenty?" the bassist asked. "Nineteen" Stuart corrected. "Ah, nineteen, same difference. I've been performing since I was a kid, so it doesn't really mess with my mind like it does yours". A cold gust of wind suddenly blew and Murdoc continued with his bare arms crossed in an effort to keep warm. "Our tours are pretty wild. People sniff whatever the fuck they can, drink all the alcohol they can find and pull girls like they are going grocery shopping. It's all part of the package.. You'll get used to it" Murdoc said bluntly. Stuart let out a sigh. "I'm not about that constant party life though. Don't get me wrong, I drink and stuff. But not like that". The taller man thought for a moment and then chuckled a little. "Plus, our guitarist is six years old, so her idea of a perfect party is one with a 6ft bouncy castle".

Murdoc reeled back in shock. "What? Six fucking years old?" he asked as he quickly looked to Stuart for confirmation. Murdoc was dumbfounded for a moment as Stuart nodded to his question, obviously holding in a laugh at the bassist's disbelief. "There's no way. How can she be good enough to play guitar in a band, when she can't even do her ABC's yet?" Murdoc asked hastily. Stuart grinned. "Mate, I don't know either but somehow she's the best guitarist i've ever met. Me and Russel know virtually nothing about her...she doesn't really speak English so we can't ask" Stuart finally answered.

"Fucking hell. All I could do at that age was play hot cross buns on a sodding recorder and sing nauseating Pinnocchio songs" Murdoc remarked snarkily. Stuart laughed loudly in reply, leaning slightly into Murdoc as he did so. Murdoc giggled, and the two men continued to walk through what was now a neighbourhood on the outskirts of Shoreditch. Oak trees lined the streets, rustling furiously with every gust of wind that rushed by them. The street lamps lit up the length of the path like spot lights, and not a single car or person was in sight.

When the wind blew again with yet more force, Murdoc complained loudly. "Fuck me, that breeze is bloody cold" he said, as he started rubbing his bare arms to warm himself. Stuart considered this for a moment, then hesitantly pulled off his own jacket and held it out to Murdoc. "You wanna wear this? I'm not really cold" Stuart proposed shakily.

Murdoc suddenly stopped walking. Stuart, who walked one more step without realising the other man had abruptly halted, turned around to look at the other man. Murdoc finally spoke, his eyes locking menacingly with Stuart's. "Don't try that shit" Murdoc warned in a low, cautionary tone. Stuart's face contorted with confusion as he retracted the jacket. "Try what?" He asked innocently. Murdoc aggressively pointed to the jacket in the other man's hands. "That. That gay shit. I don't know what you've been thinking, but I don't swing that way mate" Murdoc threatened.

Stuart's eyes widened slightly at how offended Murdoc seemed, and he started bumbling through an apologetic retort. "I was..I was only-" he began. "Well, don't" Murdoc spat, cutting the other man short. Murdoc began walking again wearing a lingering grumpy expression, and Stuart reluctantly followed a step behind the bassist.

They walked in silence for a few moments. Stuart, who felt extremely awkward at this, occasionally sneaked wide-eyed glances at the other man, waiting for something to happen. The breeze continued to prick goosebumps on the bassist's arms and he exhaled deeply in exasperation. Out of nowhere, Murdoc suddenly held out his splayed hand in Stuart's direction.

"Give it here" Murdoc demanded in a quietly defeated tone, averting his eyes in shame from the taller man's gaze. At this, a smug smile crept onto Stuart's face. Murdoc caught sight of the younger man's smug expression and scoffed. "Stop fucking smiling about it. Just give me the sodding jacket" Murdoc retorted. Stuart silently obliged, holding out his jacket to the bassist, who hastily pulled it on while continuing to purposefully avoid eye contact with the younger man.

As they continued to walk, Stuart stole a glance at Murdoc wearing his jacket. It was too big for the poor bassist, who looked slightly drowned, its sleeves running way past the length of his arms. Stuart grinned as Murdoc began to try and roll up the lengthly sleeves to let his small hands peak through.

"It suits you, Muds" Stuart proclaimed happily as they continued to walk past house after house. Murdoc crossed his arms begrudgingly and groaned at Stuart's complement. Ever the charmer, the younger man thought, as he turned his head to take in his surroundings. The occasional home was lit up with assorted festive lights, still adorned with old decorations from the past Christmas. They cast flickers of coloured light on the two men's faces as they walked, and reflected vividly in their eyes.

"Wait" Murdoc suddenly vocalised. "What did you just call me?" He asked, with a hint of surprise in his voice. Stuart was quickly pulled out of his trance and immediately decided to tread carefully with his wording- the bassist seemed to be a bit of a short-wired circuit. Stuart began to hesitantly explain himself. "I called you Muds, but if you don't like-". "No...no" Murdoc interrupted. "It's fine. I like it..i've never had a proper nickname before". Stuart smiled to himself at this, as they continued walking at a slightly closer proximity to one another.

The two men abruptly stopped in their tracks as they reached the end of the street, their feet planted tentatively on the curb. Before them, they could see an adjoining street lined with bars and clubs. Stuart made a realisation at the sight and quickly spoke up. "Ah, I know this place. I come here all the time on nights out". Murdoc hastily replied. "Anything is better than the cesspit we just came from. Let's go" the older man declared. Before Stuart knew it, the bassist was already crossing the road. Stuart sighed slightly at Murdoc's impatient disregard and then proceeded to meekly follow him across.

Murdoc looked around, scoping the assorted venues out. He had a desperate need for a drink at this point, and his gaze flitted across to the numerous bars that were on offer as Stuart regained his place at Murdoc's side. They slowly approached a particularly eye-catching club on their left, which had a courtyard bustling with rowdily chatting people, and it's name written in rainbow block lettering at its front.

"This one is my regular. It's honestly amazing Muds. We should go in" Stuart told Murdoc as he gestured towards the building. Murdoc furrowed his brows at the technicolour spectacle. "Are you having a laugh?" Murdoc finally muttered, once he had really processed the place in its entirety. Stuart looked to Murdoc, confusion tainting his features. Murdoc subconsciously took a slow, tentative step back from the place. "...Isn't that a gay bar?" the bassist asked, eyes fixed on the colourful venue before him.

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter if you are gay or not, you can still go in Murdoc" Stuart reasoned. Murdoc scoffed. "Look, I have no problem with you being gay and all that, I just cant be arsed with going in there and being hit on from all directions by a bunch of sweaty sodding men" Murdoc quickly retorted. At that, Stuart laughed mockingly at the bassist, who's face twisted with discontent. "Who said you would be hit on? We aren't animals Murdoc. Just tell them you aren't gay, i'll help you out if someone gets really pushy" Stuart reassured. Murdoc crossed his arms and averted his gaze from the taller man. "Great, at least I'll have a blue haired, six foot tall _lamp-post_ on my side" the bassist mumbled angrily under his breath.

Stuart took a step closer to the bassist, and brought both hands out to take hold of the older man's lower arm, gently pulling him in the bars direction. "Please.." Stuart quietly begged. "It'll be fun. Come on, Muds".

There was that word again. Murdoc stared up for a moment at the desperate man before him. Murdoc had never been given a nickname like that before, one that wasn't inherently abhorrent, offensive, or teasing in its nature. He was so accustomed to names being spat at him throughout his sad, grey existence of a life, that he had forgotten they can be used in any other context, for any other purpose. Instead of it making him feel like he wanted to curl up into himself in the corner of the school playground, It made him feel wanted, comfortable; like he had a _friend_.

Murdoc's taught expression softened slightly and he relented, allowing the taller man to lead the way towards the bars entrance. Stuart grinned as he walked a step in front of Murdoc, emanating the contentment of a child that had just gotten his way. As they walked through the courtyard, Stuart still clutching onto the bassist's arm, a few club-goers sitting on the wooden benches turned their heads to observe the two men.

As they were just about to enter the bar, one of the men in the group suddenly recognised Stuart, and looked curiously at the goth walking beside him. He shouted excitedly as Murdoc and Stuart walked by. "Hey Stu! Is that your new man?" he asked loudly. Stuart turned his head to reply to his friend, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Murdoc abruptly cut him off. "NO. Now piss off and mind your own business, you brain-dead twat!" Murdoc barked in an intimidatingly gruff voice, balling his fists. At that, breathing heavily, the bassist tore his arm away from Stuart's and strode angrily into the venue, leaving Stuart hovering behind.

Stuart's friend recoiled slightly in silent shock, staring with wide eyes and a deeply offended expression at Stuart. At the awkwardness of the situation, Stuart found himself hopelessly speechless. The taller man was frozen to the spot for a few moments, and ran a hand through his hair, trying to desperately formulate a response, an apology.. Anything. However, no thoughts entered his mind. Without a word, the taller man hastily scurried into the venue behind Murdoc, not taking a moment to look back. 


	4. Chapter 4

As Stuart entered the club, he thought about how Murdoc had just spoken to his friend. Who does he think he is? Stuart can tolerate a fair amount of flack, but _that_ was totally unnecessary, and he suddenly felt himself boiling over with anger. Through the venues open door, he could see Murdoc directly in his eye line, waiting for drinks at the bar, his back towards the younger man. He zoned in on the bassist's location like a missile to its target.

The venue was bustling with people dancing and chatting away in small groups, and the music was just that bit too loud to hold a conversation without raising your voice. Stuart weaved his way through the people stood around in the foyer with a hardened expression, his black glare set on Murdoc's unknowing form.

Stuart, after getting through the bulk of the crowds, walked the last few steps towards the other man across the outskirts of the dance floor. Without thinking, he brought out a heavy hand and firmly gripped onto Murdoc's shoulder. Before Murdoc could react, Stuart then forcefully twisted the bassist around to face him, and locked eyes with the smaller man.

"Murdoc, those were my _friends_ " Stuart said in an irritated tone, staring down at Murdoc with a burning gaze, his tense fingertips still digging into the other man's shoulder.

Murdoc took a few moments to stare the taller man down, giving a side-eye glance at Stuart's hand. He then looked downwards and took the time to roll up the sleeves of his jacket to his forearms and crossed his arms nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow. The bassists defiant stance threw Stuart off track for a moment, despite how he towered over the older man, despite how intimidating he was trying to be; Murdoc, with this fearlessly wordless look, seemed to annoyingly have the upper hand.

"Heh" Murdoc mockingly vocalised, noticing Stuart's embarassingly apparent nervousness. He proceeded to brush Stuart's hand that had suddenly fallen limp, off of his shoulder with startling ease. "Well you should tell your friends, as well as yourself-" Murdoc's words broke off as he leaned in a little closer, and spoke in a low, gruff tone. Stuart's knees almost buckled he was that scared by it. "..You've got some nerve".

With that, Murdoc quickly unzipped and tore Stuart's jacket off of his person, throwing it forcefully at the taller man. He peered with his black beady eyes at Stuart, his gaze unrelenting, and resoundingly threatening. "I knew I shouldn't have come out with the likes of you" Murdoc spat over the sound of the booming club music.

Stuart reeled back from the other man, his mouth slightly agape, completely humiliated, and speechless. It was impossible for the man to think of a retort, because Murdoc's statement wasn't something to argue against. It was final, ruthless and it lingered there in the air, choking the atmosphere between the two men, surging into Stuart's very being like the pounding bass of the music tearing from the club speakers. The younger man fell utterly silent, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

With that, Murdoc, with a sour facial expression, turned around and started to stomp towards the door of the venue, making his leave dramatically known to all the other club-goers in attendance.

Stuart hanged his shoulders and exhaled deeply, his heart still beating double time, his mind still hopelessly rattled. He stared with wide eyes as Murdoc walked away, then forlornly brought a hand to his cheek to rub away a fallen tear, the neon club lights silhouetting his sullen features behind mockingly bright bursts of colour.

Murdoc barged past every person in sight, the only goal he saw was the club front door, and he didn't care one bit who he upset along the way. Although on the outside, the man was stiff, unforgiving, ruthless...inside he was irrationally emotional. Murdoc's sexuality wasn't something he liked to be questioned. It wasn't a debate, and it certainly wasn't a passing joke. He was straight, and that was the end of it.

A straight man.

All he wanted, down to his very core, was for it to all be just as simple as those three mundane words. However the events of that night; the pub, the gay bar, Stuart's friends...it all unearthed these feelings that he did everything in his power to conceal. The bassist knew that deep down, he was endlessly convincing himself to believe a lie, and it was all because of his twisted, maniacal Dad.

He balled his fists as the thought of his horrid father entered his mind. He automatically saw the man's luminous green skin, his worn black top hat adorned with scattered holes and grime lacing the rim, and that _nose_.

Too often had young Murdoc just stared at the spectacle of filth that unfortunately raised him, and wonder why he deserved such an unhappy fate. It was his Dad that would beat Murdoc at every opportunity, as if it were some sort of abusive sport. It was his Dad that pushed him out onto that pub stage to perform 'I've Got No Strings' like a show animal at a zoo. It was his Dad, that made him repress his bisexuality.


	5. Chapter 5

6th June, 1981.

Murdoc woke himself up for school, and although it was his fifteenth birthday, no happy reception met him as he plodded downstairs into the kitchen. Only the far too familiar sound of stone-cold silence. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and looked at the state of the place. The tap was still dripping and dirty plates and cutlery littered the kitchen counter tops. No sign of neither his Dad or his brother, Hannibal. He thought as much.

Getting up and going to school like this, like a normal child, wasn't a regular occurrence for Murdoc. If there was no pressure from his horrible excuse for a parental figure to actually attend the run-down prison of learning, he wouldn't usually bother. However, today was important.

Murdoc was finally a year older, and he had to make it known to all of his classmates. He was one of the youngest in his year, and he thought that turning fifteen would give him a much needed one-up on his numerous bullies. Murdoc smiled devilishly as he thought of what insult he could throw at his most dedicated bully, Tony Chopper, as he reached for a half-empty bag of bread lying on top of the bread bin, and pulled two slices out. Murdoc recoiled at the sight of green mould lining the crust, but seeing as there was nothing else edible in the cupboards, he made-do. He noticed that the middle of the bread was fairly normal, and so began pealing the moulding crusts from the meat of the bread slices.

Murdoc wasn't one for having friends. He was certainly a joker, and would endlessly annoy each teacher who had the unfortunate role of conducting him a lesson. Too often, due to his relentless antics, Murdoc would often be left observing the lesson through a window, stood on the other side of the classroom door after being sent out. At this point, the teachers had Murdoc's name firmly down on their black-lists, and would target him at every opportunity. He was intolerable, and he liked it that way.

Most of the time, Murdoc sought the approval of his classmates through them breaking into a chorus of childish laughter at one of his stupid jokes, but never formed relationships any deeper than surface level with any other child. In the past, children have actually admitted to finding him scary, and although sometimes there were glimmers of a potential friendship brewing as he bonded with the classmate sat beside him in the occasional lesson, or joined in with games on the playground, any potential friend would soon be put off once they got to know Murdoc and his outlandish tendencies.

Murdoc placed the bread in the grimy toaster, and smiled widely as a thought entered his head, interrupting his self-depreciating rumination. Nearly everyone was repelled by him in this way, except one. A boy called Ronny. He was a wimpy looking child, with a gangly appearance and a mop of straight, collar bone length brown hair. He nearly always had dirt beneath his finger nails and a snotty nose, and Murdoc reasoned that Ronny almost had the personality to match his strange looks. Ronny was quiet, meagre and unassuming; seemingly nothing special. However, although not Murdoc's usual go-to friend, there was something about Ronny that compelled him.

Murdoc didn't mind that the boy was reticent, as it allowed for Murdoc to fill the silence between them. Murdoc would happily chatter on and on about various bands, games and even complain about his rubbish family, as Ronny listened faithfully, and without judgement. It was easy to open up to the other child, and Murdoc knew from the very moment they met in maths, after Murdoc was sent to the front of the classroom to reluctantly sit among the front-row nerds, that they would be friends.

Today, Ronny had promised to surprise Murdoc for his birthday, and Murdoc was not going to miss it. The toast abruptly popped from the toaster and Murdoc jumped at the sound. He then swiftly reached for the two pieces of toast and placed them on a plate. However, before Murdoc went to the fridge to get butter, he sneaked a look at the clock on the wall.

"Shit!" young Murdoc exclaimed as he saw that school began two minutes ago. He quickly shoved the sadly unbuttered toast into his backpack, and ran out of the door, slamming it with force. Murdoc cringed at the thought of how angry the sound of the slamming door rattling the house would make his sleeping father, as he ran down the street towards his school. However, he pushed the fear of his Dad's wrath down, as today, Murdoc would allow nothing to ruin his fifteenth birthday.

When Murdoc finally got to school, he judged that entering his first lesson would be futile, seeing as it was already part-way through. Plus, he wasn't one for Maths anyway, and reasoned that if the lesson happened to be History, there would be no debate that he would join. Instead, Murdoc simply hanged around in the halls until break.

When the bell eventually rang and swarms of kids suddenly filled the halls, Murdoc, who was fairly small for his age, craned his head to seek out Ronny leaving his lesson. However, he suddenly felt a hand meet the middle of his back and push him hard, sending him reeling foreward. "Gaylord. Why did _you_ come in today?".

Murdoc knew who was addressing him before he even turned around. Murdoc's facial expression hardened, and he quickly found his footing and spun to face his most ruthless bully: Tony Chopper. Tony was bigger than Murdoc, in nearly every way. He was tall, and very much overweight for his age, Murdoc judged. Tony's sparse mousy brown hair lay on the boy's head like a dead animal, and his face that was abundantly dotted with numerous freckles, held a sour expression, his eyes fixed threateningly on the smaller Murdoc. Tony stood with his arms crossed, his snot-nosed mates surrounding him as if he was some sort of high school mob boss.

Tony's nose suddenly flickered, and the boy let out a vocalisation of disgust. "Urgh. Is that you Murdoc? You stink!" Tony spat in a vile tone, looking the smaller boy up and down in obvious judgement. Murdoc was humiliated by this, but he didn't let it show. He was all too aware that he hadn't showered for days, and Murdoc knew his house had a lingering odour of pungent cigarette smoke, black mould and decay that adhered itself to any being that unfortunately inhabited it. Murdoc furrowed his brows and crossed his small arms, making a conscious effort to not break the other boy's gaze in defiance.

"I may smell, Chopper-" Murdoc began cooly as he dusted himself off, taking his time with his response in order to convey nothing but calm disregard for Tony's comments. "But at least I have more than one sodding brain cell". At that, Tony's eyes widened and his face flushed a brilliant red. It was a pathetically hilarious sight, and a smug smile crept onto Murdoc's face.

Outraged by Murdoc's more than apparent contentment, Tony lunged, gripping his huge hands around Murdoc's scrawny neck. Murdoc spluttered under Tony's grip, bringing his hands to Tony's in a futile effort to scratch the boy off of him. However, Tony didn't relent, as his crowd of boys egged him on, shouting horrid words of encouragement from all directions. Murdoc couldn't hear what they were saying at that point, as his hearing failed and his vision began to fade under Tony's unrelenting grasp.

Murdoc's arms fell limply to his sides, as he took hasty, quick breaths, gasping for air in blind panic. At his small stature, Murdoc didn't stand a chance against Tony. He may have been wittier, his cutting comment doing the trick in riling the larger boy up, however possessing wit but no brawn rendered him helpless. A crowd of curiously observing children had gathered at this point, watching with wide eyes, and in stunned silence. No child spoke up. No one dared say a word against Tony Chopper, and in their eyes, Murdoc wasn't a victim worth defending. Murdoc had unfortunately fallen prey to Tony's unstoppable wrath.

  
Suddenly, a foot connected with Tony's knee and the boy reeled, squealing loudly and instantly releasing Murdoc's neck. Tony bent down to look at his knee, in staggering pain. Murdoc automatically proceeded to suck in a large gasp of air, and collapsed foreword, ending up on all fours with his hands splayed widely on the cold, hallway floor.

After a few moments of getting his breath back, Murdoc slowly raised his head to observe what was occurring in front of him. Through his blurred vision, Murdoc saw Tony, bent double and grimacing in pain, holding tightly onto his raised leg. Murdoc's eyes flitted to focus on a figure to his right, and to Murdoc's surprise, stood before the larger boy with balled fists, was no one but his scrawny friend Ronny.

It was a sight to behold, as Ronny's act of courage silenced all of the surrounding children, who had up until that moment, only known Ronny as the quiet, weird kid. Some children began to cheer excitedly at this unlikely victory, whereas most just continued to stare with wide, glassy eyes; completely dumfounded. Murdoc began to try and stand up, but failed in his exhausted state, his arms falling limp. However, before he fell once again to the floor, a pair of arms hooked under his and hoisted him up, and he found himself leaning onto Ronny with shaky legs.

A teacher's voice suddenly echoed throughout the hallway. Oi! What's going on here?" Mr Holland shouted, striding towards the scene. The surrounding children proceeded to disband immediately for fear of getting into trouble by association, and the teacher pushed through the crowd swiftly, his eyes setting on the injured Murdoc and Tony, and the sheepishly looking Ronny, still holding onto Murdoc. It wasn't hard for Mr Holland to deduce what had happened here, and so he angrily pointed Murdoc and Ronny in the direction of his office. Tony was taken away by another teacher, limping as he held onto her, trying his best to conceal his tears.

When Murdoc and Ronny had explained the situation to Mr Holland, sat opposite the teacher at his desk in a small office branching off from the school foyer, the teacher had come to understand that Chopper was the main culprit. It didn't surprise Mr Holland that Tony held the blame, purely because all of the teaching staff were well aware that the boy was a daily offending bully. As head of pastoral care, Mr Holland quickly left to give Tony a talking to, leaving Murdoc and Ronny alone in his office.

The room fell silent, albeit for the jarring sound of a machanically ticking clock hanging on the wall, and Murdoc rubbed at his aching neck. Ronny's eyes were set awkwardly on the floor, and Murdoc noticed how Ronny slowly twiddled his thumbs as he quickly looked to the other boy. Murdoc had to say something, but at first he hesitated, not quite knowing what to say.

He wasn't used to people defending him, or even caring about him for that matter. It was an alien feeling for the smaller boy; to feel like he had someone he could count on, and he couldn't quite sum up this feeling into words. Murdoc didn't know whether to thank Ronny, as a part of him felt as though there must have been an alternate motive to the other boy's selfless actions. No one would do something like that, for someone as worthless as himself.

Despite the loudness of his doubting thoughts, Murdoc finally brought himself to speak. "Look, Ronny. Thanks and everything. But...why did you do that? I can fight my own battles" he said, still trying to make light of the situation, however a hint of nervousness was apparent in his tone. Ronny raised his head, his long hair falling away from his face slowly, and looked to Murdoc, furrowing his brow. "Murdoc. He was strangling you" Ronny stated, seemingly slightly offended by Murdoc's disregard. Murdoc retorted quickly. "Hey, I could have handled it! I was just waiting for the right moment. Get him when he least expected it... But anyway, you didn't answer my question mate-". Ronny looked expectedly to Murdoc. Murdoc continued, eyes connecting with Ronny's. "-why did you do it?" Murdoc asked, in a hushed tone.

Ronny instantly averted his gaze from the other boy, resuming his usual stance, looking meekly to the floor. Murdoc was confused by Ronny's unusually nervous reaction, and pressed the other boy to speak with his unrelenting gaze, silence falling between the two. Out of nowhere, Ronny's shaky voice suddenly filled the room. "Because I like you Murdoc..like, I fancy you and that" Ronny blurted meekly, still refusing to make eye contact with the other boy.

Murdoc reeled back, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Out of all of the responses Ronny could have given, Murdoc was not expecting that. He thought they were friends, nothing more. In that moment, it was hard for Murdoc to bring himself to believe that those words had indeed escaped from the other boy's mouth. Surely, this was all a weird dream. Because this didn't seem to make sense to him, and his brain halted in its functioning.

Ronny, sensing that Murdoc had fell unusually speechless, looked to the other boy, a desperate expression tainting his features. 'Gay' was a word frequently passed around on the playground, and was always used teasingly; to signify something viscerally unpleasant, to demean people. The word lingered in the boy's mind, and at Murdoc's ambiguous reaction, he instantly feared for his own safety. It was very possible that the other boy might turn against him at this admission.

Before Murdoc could utter a word, Mr Holland abruptly returned, slamming the door behind him. The teacher informed them that their parents had been called about what had happened, and that they would all be going home early. Murdoc didn't say a word to Ronny as they left Mr Holland's office. He didn't even speak as the two boys began walking home. They lived very close to each other, Murdoc's house being at the edge of the motor way, and Ronny's at an adjoining street.

As they slowly walked down the long path, beside a busy road stemming off from the bustling Stoke On Trent motor way, Ronny clutched onto his backpack and stared at the floor sadly. He didn't know what nature of a reaction he expected from the other boy, but he judged that silence was probably one of the worst possible. Every quiet second that passed by drilled further into his doubting subconscious. However, he still had one more thing to do. He had already sacrificed this much, Ronny thought that at this point, he had nothing to lose.


	6. Chapter 6

Murdoc turned as he noticed Ronny slowing in pace slightly, and stared curiously as he proceeded to unhook his back pack and open it. After a few moments of digging, Ronny pulled out a large cardboard box. Murdoc raised his eyebrows at this strange reveal, and watched as Ronny opened up the box and presented its contents to the other boy.

Fitting neatly into the confines of the box, was a birthday cake. Murdoc stared at it with glassy, uncomprehending eyes, taking in every detail. The cake was clearly made by a fifteen year old, as it was adorned with garish, bright green icing that had been sloppily spread across it's surface. The piped lettering read 'Happy Bday Murdoc', the last few letters of the smaller boy's name clearly squashed due to an unplanned for lack of space. In the eyes of any other person who had a shred of sense, it was a jarring sight. However, to Murdoc, it couldn't have been more amazing.

Murdoc couldn't remember the last time he had been given a proper birthday cake. He knew that his father had tried to make them before on the occasional birthday, but they never quite resembled a cake, as any normal person would know one. Murdoc had often childishly dreamt about a birthday cake that was as big as a room, elegant, and most importantly, edible. However, too many a year, young Murdoc had been half-heartedly handed a piece of stale brioche, stabbed into with a single birthday candle, or a half eaten piece of bread and butter pudding on the not so special occasion of him gaining another year. At the thought that someone would do such a thing for him, as make him a _birthday cake_ , Murdoc grinned.

Ronny smiled back, and ushered Murdoc to take the cake from his hands. They were within view of Murdoc's house at this point, and Murdoc thought that nothing sounded better right now than to invite Ronny over to enjoy the cake together, and play games. Ronny liked him, and Murdoc realised at that moment, that he also felt the same way. Although he felt he didn't deserve such a considerate boy's affections, he couldn't help but feel over-filled with happiness.

Murdoc took the cake and held the box under one of his arms. Without thinking, he then outstretched his other arm with a splayed hand in Ronny's direction. Ronny looked down at Murdoc's hand and grinned innocently, clasping his hand around the other boy's. They then continued to walk, chatting every so often, minds completely full with bliss, towards Murdoc's house.

However in Murdoc's short life, he had quickly learnt that nothing was ever simple. While this had all been happening, Murdoc's father had been opening the curtains after waking late, suffering from a banging headache from the night before. His black eyes fell onto Murdoc holding hands with another boy, and he found himself at first confused, and then suddenly exploding with anger at the sight.

The man saw red as he stormed down the stairs of his run-down house, and barged out of the doorway, opening the house door with unimaginable force. Sebastian Niccals suddenly halted, and stood outside their house, his fists balled and his burning gaze fixed on Murdoc.

There was a tense moment where nothing was said. Murdoc automatically released Ronny's hand, but what was done was done. There was no point in Murdoc trying to explain himself at that point, he was beyond defending; his fate had been unfortunately sealed. The older man proceeded to shout in his booming voice, making Ronny jump back in fear. "What the fuck was that?!" Sebastian yelled through gritted teeth. Not leaving time for Murdoc to answer, his father angrily spoke up once more. "Get in here Murdoc. Now. Or i'll knock both of your sodding teeth in" the man threatened.

Murdoc obliged, hanging his shoulders as he walked into the house. He couldn't risk Ronny also falling victim to his father's abusive ways, and despite being unimaginably embarrassed, he still faithfully clutched onto his cake with shaky, unsure hands. Sebastian followed behind Murdoc as the boy entered the house, pure anger in his stance, preparing to strike. Ronny had left at that point, scurrying quickly home. Nothing scared the poor boy more than Murdoc's family, especially after hearing the stories Murdoc had divulged with him. Although, as he ran, his thoughts were consumed by Murdoc, and he hoped with everything he had that the other boy would be okay.

Murdoc didn't remember much after that. But he did recall waking up the next day riddled with fresh, bright purple bruises. And he never got to try his birthday cake.


	7. Chapter 7

As Murdoc made his way towards the club front door, the thought of this memory spread like a black stain onto the surface of his rattled mind. The bassist regarded his teens as some of his lowest years, and that one event had changed everything. After it had happened, Murdoc hadn't attended school for months. He got in with the wrong crowd- a group of older boys who's villainous misadventures appealed more to Murdoc than an education, or any kind of hope for the future. He repressed his sexuality to the very pit of his being, and he tried with all his might not to acknowledge its existence. He reasoned half-heartedly that if he didn't act upon it, it wasn't tangible. However remembering how his father had handled it, how he had ruthlessly beaten Murdoc that day, never failed to rile the bassist up with storming, all-consuming anger.

Murdoc shoved past a man a bit too forcefully as he pushed his way through the crowd, and in response, the man quickly pushed Murdoc back by the chest. Although not much taller than Murdoc, the man was stocky, his prominent muscles indented through his thin white T-shirt. Murdoc was sent reeling by this single push, but quickly found his footing, and raised his head to look the other man in the eyes, with a furious, yet slightly exasperated expression. Murdoc was angry, but he didn't want a fight to break out unless it was really necessary. He knew to remove himself from the situation immediately when he felt like this, and this stranger was preventing him from doing so.

"Look, mate. I'm not in the mood for this shit. Just leave it, yeah?" Murdoc reasoned bluntly, valiantly fighting back his primal urge to punch the other man into another dimension. The other man was breathing heavily, and slowly balled his fists. "You started it, you tosser" He managed to say behind his black screen of anger.

Murdoc sighed loudly, this man was a fire-cracker, and he really couldn't be bothered with it. Murdoc craned his neck over the man's shoulder, and saw a group of his friends standing behind him, watching intently. He decided to snarkily engage with them, breaking eye contact with his opponent. "Is he always like this?" The bassist asked sarcastically, pointing to the now furious man before him. The man practically growled at being mocked like this, taking another step towards Murdoc, invading the bassist's personal space in an attempt at intimidation, readying himself.

Murdoc rose to the occasion despite himself, and took a step closer to the other man. He certainly wasn't in the mood for a fight, but that was purely because in the emotional state he was in, he didn't know what kind of obscene damage he was capable of. The man stared down at Murdoc, breathing heavily into his face, absolutely dumbstruck at Murdoc's nerve.

Murdoc was suddenly assaulted with shadows from the past, as for a brief moment, in place of the other man's face, he saw his father, he saw every high school bully that ever harmed him, he saw Tony Chopper. Murdoc unwillingly remembered how weak he was back then, and it was about time that he corrected history. However, before the fight began, Murdoc couldn't help but make one more sarcastic remark, really get under the other man's skin. It's what Murdoc did best.

The bassist raised his head and looked the other man in the eye, speaking in a mockingly hush tone, seeing as they were now only centimetres away from one another. "Look. Maybe you're trying to impress your weedy looking friends, or perhaps with the whole skin-tight shirt, muscle-man act, you are trying to compensate for something" Murdoc eyes flitted momentarily to the lower regions of the man's body suggestively, then levelled with his opponent's gaze once again. "But, and i'm gonna tell you this only once-" the other man's eyes widened slightly as Murdoc leaned in closer. "-You don't know who you're dealing with".

  
With that, Murdoc's balled fist connected with the side of the man's face, deforming it with the brutal force of his left hook. The man crumpled with the force of the attack, ending up sprawled across the floor, his friends letting out a collective gasp. A smug smile crept onto Murdoc's face at the ease of it all, as he dusted himself off. He flashed the man's group of friends a triumphant look, and then proceeded to turn on his heel and began to walk once more towards the club exit.

However, as Murdoc took his first step, he suddenly felt a large hand grip at his ankle. Murdoc attempted to blindly shake the arm off, however another hand locked around his other leg, and he toppled onto the cold, night club floor. The bassist had foolishly let his ego get the better of him, and now, he was completely vulnerable, helplessly lying on his back.

The other man looked a state as he proceeded to quickly release Murdoc's legs and climb on top of the bassist. His nose was bleeding steadily, falling in red patches onto the ivory fabric of his shirt, and his cheek had suddenly flashed a deep shade of red at the point of Murdoc's impact. The man flipped Murdoc so he was lying face foreward on the floor below him, and with all the strength he had, he flung an endless stream of punches at the bassist as he locked Murdoc in a straddle from above.

Murdoc was completely helpless. He felt each punch connecting with his face with ruthless force, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His facial bones cracked and his vision faded, as each anvil- like impact soon began to blur into one steady stream of pain. He was losing consciousness at that point, and just before he went, Murdoc attempted to kick the man in the groin. However, the straddle holding his leg in place was too strong, and he once again fell limp.

With a sudden blow to the side of his head, Murdoc saw only white.

 

                     ***

 

Murdoc began to wake up slowly, as he sensed the light from the gaps between his curtains falling softly onto him in illuminated shards. He grunted as he began to stir, and wriggled a little in bed, feeling his bare feet brush against the warm bed sheets. He knew that feeling. He was at his flat, tucked neatly into his own bed. He willed himself to rise up from the bed covers, however with the sudden shift in gravity, Murdoc winced as he was assaulted with the worst headache he had ever felt, it dragged him back down into his bed, and he groaned amongst the bed sheets. There was an epicentre of burning pain below his eye, and Murdoc slowly brought a hand up to curiously feel his face.

Murdoc quickly recoiled his hand from his rapidly swelling black eye, as even his light touch sent a wave of hot, stinging pain across his senses. He instantly remembered what had happened last night. He remembered the fight, he remembered what he had said, however, one looming question itched at his mind; how did he get home? Murdoc thought quickly to check his phone, and so despite his pain, he shifted in bed so he was leaning on his side, and then reached for the spot on his bedside table where his mobile usually resided.

When his fingertips connected with the cold surface of his phone, Murdoc celebrated silently. He hadn't lost it last night, and that was a great relief. He pulled the phone into him, and turned it on, wincing at the sudden bright home-screen light assaulting his vision. On it was a single text message, received at 1:31 am.

_Hey Muds.  
You got knocked out by some guy in a fight, so I called your band mates and found out where you live. Sorry about last night. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Call me when you're feeling better, maybe we could do that jam session soon?_

_Stuart x_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update very soon. I will be updating this regularly until it is finished. Believe it or not I started this fic with the intention of it only being a short smut fic but I have once again ended up writing over 10,000 words of fluff and angst and stuff. Lol why am I like this. However i really want to write smut and have the whole fic planned out. Hope you like it so far tho people.


	8. Chapter 8

Murdoc didn't answer. And as the days blended into weeks, and the weeks into months, the memory of that night began to granulate upon the screen of his mind. The bruises healed slowly, however still, in mid-March, Murdoc possessed unsightly discolouration around his left eye, and sore micro-fractures in the fragile bones of his hand from the force of his own punch. Going to hospital would have helped, but Murdoc reasoned that in his life he'd endured plenty of beatings, many worse than this, so he decided to tough it out.

Often, Murdoc would just lay on his unmade bed, and strum at his bass absentmindedly. Picking at the metal-coil strings without any particular tune in mind, not reading any kind of notation.. Just strumming. The melancholy past-time allowed him time to think, and after the tour with his band had wrapped, he found himself becoming strangely reclusive.

Of course, Murdoc had been on a hoard of nights out after that particular one. He'd slept with too many girls to count, he'd drank himself into a coma, taken numerous questionable drugs..yet he was permanently surprised at how something within him felt missing. It was a peculiar feeling, nagging at his subconscious, as if he had forgotten a part of himself, like he was suddenly empty.

On this particular day, Murdoc arose late in the afternoon, admittedly a little hungover from the night before. However, as far as hangovers went, this wasn't his worst, and so he bargained with himself that if he avoided food and drank water during the day, he would feel fit enough to go out again tonight.

As he became aware of his own alcoholic thoughts, he realised quickly how much he hated that he was stuck once again, revolving his life around empty nights-out, where he'd leave each dingy club exit burdened with a worse mind set than when he went in. However, Murdoc was well aware of his impulsivity, and relished in the present; when he was in a club, drunk off his mind, embodying brashness and intoxicated chaos, it didn't feel so futile. As soon as the cold rim of a glass bottle of rum met his lips at a bar, suddenly things would make sense, and he simultaneously hated it, and lived for it.

During the day, Murdoc recovered. When the sun began to set and the night began, he came alive. Murdoc sat up in his bed and immediately reached for his bass that was positioned faithfully at his bedside, already plugged into it's amp. He crossed his legs and pulled it into his lap. He then proceeded to lean down towards the amp on the floor beside his table, turning the volume knob just over half-way. After rising back up, automatically the fingers of his left hand found the correct fret on the basses fingerboard.

Now that he had readied himself, he began plucking at the strings, playing a particularly complicated riff he had formulated recently using two professionally moving fingers. While he played, nodding his head slightly to the songs steady rhythm, he closed his eyes momentarily, letting his thoughts consume him.

The concept of a sleeping pattern was a thing of the past for Murdoc, and consequently, for the rest of his band mates. They were all as bad as each other, all five of them. 'Murdoc's Burning Sensations' didn't have a gig planned for months, and found that their audience was rapidly dwindling. The band resorted to playing in dingy bars, near-abandoned clubs; places that no person with a shred of sense would bring themselves to enter. Their questionable choice of venue, publicly atrocious drinking habits and insidious tabloid drama all contributed to the inevitable staining of their reputation.

The reality was, noone wanted to see them play anymore, and Murdoc unashamedly wouldn't give any of his attention to critique. He had made it known when the band read their latest newspaper review, that any other journalist who criticised his vocal performance would soon regret ever putting their slanderous fingers to a keyboard. However, in typical Murdoc style, he chose to voice this sentiment using considerably more slurs.

Instead of playing gigs, the band would default to going out and drinking to excess. Because music was all they knew, all they were qualified for; and without it, their only means of finding stability was in liqueur. It was a grey, hopeless lifestyle, tinted by the blackness of impending failure, of collapse; and yet tonight, they would do it all again.

Murdoc winced as his hand injuries once again revealed themselves while he played a particularly meticulous bar, and as the throbbing pain in his joints ringed in his mind, he recoiled from his bass, letting the instrument collapse on his lap. The pain soon bled into his hungover state and his headache began to pound, and so responsively Murdoc brought a hand to his forehead and slowly let himself collapse into his bed. He lay still among the bed sheets, his bass resting across him, and allowed his tired eyes to slip shut. Murdoc allowed this onsetting heavy slumber to engulf the rest of his day.

However, the bassist was woke suddenly at late dusk, after being abruptly awoken from his nap by the sound of a booming kick drum and crashing symbols emanating from the room directly below. He groaned at being awoken in this manner, and immediately planned what kind of abuse he could begrudgingly throw at Martin, his drummer, when the bassist eventually brought himself to go downstairs.

However, before willing himself to get out of bed, Murdoc turned his head and glanced at the time on his alarm clock. He noticed with a start that it was now certainly late enough to start getting ready to go out, and so pulled off his bed covers and slowly rose from bed into a sitting position, his bass falling to his side, and reflexively began rubbing at his eyes. He exhaled in relief when he realised he had slept off his headache, and so with a new lease of life, he pushed himself out of bed.

After pulling on a black T-shirt, matching black jeans and his usual upside-down cross pendant, Murdoc noticed the sound of Martin's incessant practising had stopped, and plodded downstairs to find his gathered band mates waiting by the door for a taxi to the club. Murdoc mentally noted yet more evidence that proved they didn't like him, as he reasoned that it was very possible that if he hadn't arose just in time, they undoubtedly would have gone without him. With an air of suspicion, he decided to join them in wait. When the taxi arrived, they bungled themselves into the vehicle and listened to loud music on the radio, talking every so often, until they arrived at the venue.

When he stepped out onto the street lined with numerous bars and brightly-lit clubs, Murdoc instantaneously recognised it. When his band mates had suggested going out in Shoreditch, he knew there was something about the place that didn't quite settle right with him. And now, the memories were flooding back. The thought of Stuart momentarily entered his mind, however he shoved it down. Instead, he replaced the unwelcome memory with a need for a remedying amount of alcohol, and so walked into the newly opened club at the end of the row, a step in front of the rest of his band mates.

Murdoc's eyes flickered as he scoped the place out. He noticed the dance floor in the far back, bustling with people- mostly women, he lustfully noted. His eyes then settled on the bar to his right, and he began to sidle towards the queue. When he had walked a bit closer and noticed the length of the line, he let out a deep exhale in exasperation. At this point, his need for a drink was all he could think about, and so he immediately began walking up the length of the line towards the bar, tactically skipping a substantial amount of the queue. When he was satisfied by how close he was to the bars front, Murdoc positioned himself amongst the other people waiting in line, trying his best to maintain subtlety.

Suddenly, Murdoc felt a finger prod hard at his shoulder from behind, and he groaned at how he had been caught in the act. He childishly attempted not to acknowledge it for a few moments, until a woman's discontent voice grated at his ears. "Oi, i'm sorry mate, but you can't just push in like that" the strange woman voiced bitterly from behind the bassist. Murdoc, already not in the best of moods, began to feel unbridled anger boil up within him. It was in this alcohol deprived state, that he had the loosest grip on his temper, and Murdoc knew that in the mood he was in, this wouldn't pan out to be any kind of civil negotiation. However after a few tense moments, he willed himself to address the stranger.

While he turned around to face her, adrenaline levels rising, fists balled, preparing for an altercation, he began his disgruntled retort. "Oh come the fuck off it, you absolute-". Murdoc's words broke off as he set eyes on the woman. Her hardened gaze levelled with his, and Murdoc's mind was automatically set alight. He knew that face. He knew that flowing brown hair, that curled ever so slightly into loosely coiling tresses. She had the same feeling of instantaneous familiarity towards the bassist, yet both couldn't quite identify the other. So the two of them just stood there, mutually dumstruck, searching through their clouded memories.

Suddenly, the woman's face twisted with discontent at the sight of the man before her, and she hastily broke the silence between the two with her realistaion. "Waaaait" she vocalised, her eyes widening. "You're that creepy old pervert that tried to chat me up a few months ago, aren't you?" she asked loudly, the scantily clad woman beside her, who Murdoc guessed was her friend, smiling widely at the situation.

Murdoc, noticing that her volume was drawing attention, quickwittedly attempted to deny her claim. He vaguely remembered her, enough to know that he regretted ever trying to pull the woman, and although he couldn't quite place her name, he knew she was standoffish, and not worth his time. Murdoc shook his head, letting out a small "No love, you must be mistaken" before turning back around.

He once again felt a finger angrily poke at his arm, but this time in the form of an annoyingly quick succession of hard prods. The bassist practically growled at her nerve, and swiped her hand away, still steadfast in his decision not to once again face the woman. However, despite him turning his back on her, she once again spoke up.

"Yeaaah, I remember you" she said sarcastically, comically emphasising every word, much to the enjoyment of her childishly giggling friend. "Was it 'Murdoc's Boiling Crustaceans'?..Or 'Murdoc's Itching Erections'?" She jokingly asked the bassist, feigning unsurety. She was evidently revelling in humiliating him, and at her performance, her drunken friend burst into an unbridled fit of laughter. Murdoc practically vibrated with anger, but in the last few seconds before he exploded, she decided to dig at him once more, speaking in a blunt, threatening tone. "You were the one that was a complete and utter dick to Stu" she stated bitterly.

That was it. Murdoc gave her a chance, and she foolishly made her choice. Once she'd mentioned Stuart, the woman's name was on the very tip of his tongue, and he had to reaffirm his dominance, make her know that she couldn't step all over him like this. He spun around and looked down at her with pure rage in his eyes. "And who are you again? Was it Patricia or something boring like that?" He spat. "Paula" she answered, crossing her arms. "Ah" Murdoc responsively vocalised. "I always encounter slags like yourself, and their names tend to blend into one" he responded sarcastically.

Paula clenched her jaw at this, but didn't break eye contact with the man before her. She leaned in slightly, not displaying any signs of weakness. Murdoc responsively maintained his threatening stance. "Stuart is the nicest man you'll ever meet, and you were horrible to him" she stated.

Murdoc couldn't take it anymore. That night was a sensitive topic for the bassist, as he knew his actions had been questionable, however he also simultaneously hated when people dictated their sappy morals at him. He quickly realised he couldn't be bothered with this pointless back and forth, and practically barked his final retort. "Yeah? Well you're the most _irritating_ person I've ever met. Now piss off" he spat. With that, he broke from his position in the line, and stomped away in the direction of the dance floor.

Murdoc didn't take a moment to look back as he angrily walked away. His reputation was already tarnished enough, and with the prevalent echoes of injuries obtained from his last altercation still firmly set on his face, Murdoc couldn't risk yet another fight erupting, especially not with a woman, or more likely, any man that chivalrously steps in to defend her.

As he walked towards the dance floor, slowly coming down from his furious state, his eyes reflexively flickered towards the sight of a small shot bar, lit up brightly in the far corner of the dance floor. He judged that drowning out the last throws of his anger with potent alcohol was the only option that would allow him to carry on with this wreck of a night out, and so he hastily headed towards it.

To Murdoc's relief, there was only a small queue for this bar, and he quickly found himself at the front. He ordered six tequila shots and proceeded to lean casually on the bars surface, watching intently as the bar lady poured each one with quick yet meticulous precision. After he had paid, the bar tender raised a judging eyebrow as the bassist hastily gulped each shot down in succession.

Murdoc exhaled and placed the last shot glass back onto the bars surface forcefully. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the drunkenness to ensue.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: use of homophobic language in this chapter.

Murdoc leant on the bar with one arm, and turned his body in order to look out at the dance floor, waiting for the shots to have their effect. It didn't take long for his vision to blur, and his senses to dampen. The people dancing before streams of flickering neon light seemed to move differently now and the music tearing from the club speakers became a low, continuous rumble, as Murdoc's shifting attention became less and less focussed. His movements slowed, and his previous anger, although not completely diminished, was felt to a much lesser extent, and suddenly, Murdoc could _relax_.

Murdoc knew that deep down within him, what Paula had said had ringed true. However, it took him ingesting copious amounts of alcohol to admit it to himself. How Murdoc had acted towards Stuart that night was totally out of hand, and it was on nights out like this that what he had said would replay and replay in his mind like a broken tape.

' _I knew I shouldn't have come out with the likes of you_ '.

Murdoc's own words stabbed at him as they assaulted his memory. The way he had spat out each syllable, the manner with which he had glared at the other man as he said them. He was certainly not proud of it, and he hated himself for ever uttering such a ruthless sentence. It was un-called for, and Murdoc knew that. But he also knew exactly where his sharp tongue and short temper had its derivations.

When the demented man was alive, Sebastian Niccal's over-bearing influence had cast an all-engulfing shadow over his young existence. While Murdoc was in the throws of his vulnerable juvenility, he saw no way out. He would comply with what his father told him to do without debate, and that fact still stung at him to this day; his father had stripped him of his individuality, and in his nativity, Murdoc had allowed it. What else was he to do? Murdoc hadn't always been so head-strong, and under the influence of his father, he had been a mere pawn, tied down to Sebastian Niccal's chess board.

It was Murdoc's twisted father, that lead the bassist to do something that he regretted to this very day.

 

30th June, 1981

Murdoc hadn't attended school for weeks. He couldn't bring himself to. He had no enthusiasm for education as it was, and nothing sounded worse than having to face Ronny, not after last time. The school had attempted to call on the house phone numerous times, trying desperately to get in contact with Sebastian, wondering why the boy hadn't attended for the rest of the month. Each time, his father wouldn't answer. And young Murdoc remembered how the final time the phone rung out, his dad had stomped down the stairs, practically growling, and thrown the device out of the open kitchen window.

However, Murdoc, who had been sat at the kitchen table, eating a meagre dinner of bread and butter that he had dutifully prepared himself, still heard the muffled phone as his father begrudgingly walked back upstairs, ringing into the ground, face first among the dead garden grass. A solemn reminder that all signs of hope for him eventually came to nothing.

It was mid-afternoon, and Murdoc was laying on the sofa as he usually did, flicking absentmindedly through the few TV channels they had on offer. The living room was dark, despite it being only 2pm, but Murdoc had always noted how the house seemed to have a permanent gloom to it. The houses rickety foundations were constantly rumbling due to its unfortunate location at the edge of the busy motor way, and the thick scent of swirling car fumes infested and choked the atmosphere within it.

When Murdoc finally settled on a televised 'The Jam' gig, he suddenly heard the living room door creak as it opened behind him. His heart instantly began to quicken in pace, as the moving figure of his father entered his peripheral vision. His dad slowly walked across the living room, eventually sitting down in the arm chair opposite Murdoc. Sebastian exhaled from the effort of his movements, and settled into the chair, opening his legs wide and resting his elbows on the chairs arms, bringing his knuckle beneath his chin to rest his head.

Murdoc didn't avert his gaze from the illuminated screen of the TV, but his eyes were wide with fear and his body reflexively stiffened. After all the beatings his father had served him, Murdoc found it near impossible to relax in the man's over-bearing presence. However, he knew his father being there meant something, because most of the man's time was spent at the pub he owned. Sitting here and watching TV with either of his sons wasn't a usual occurrence, and Murdoc braced himself for the worst.

Despite the numerous beatings, Murdoc and his father hadn't properly spoken about what had happened with Ronny, and now that the initial reaction stage was over, and Sebastian had ruminated over the events, Murdoc knew the man would have a few things to say about it, and this was what the boy feared the most.

"Look at me, son". Sebastian's low voice cut through the tense atmosphere, manifesting itself within the confines of the small living room and staining the air with his thick Stoke drawl. Murdoc felt his adrenaline levels rising, but brought himself to look away from the TV. His youthful, glassy eyes met his father's hardened gaze, and he practically shivered with the intensity of his nerves.

Satisfied that Murdoc was now making reluctant eye contact with him, Murdoc's father continued. "You're not a fag, are you my boy?" He asked, feigning a look of concern. Murdoc saw right through the man's act. He knew how his father viewed same-sex relationships, he heard the comments his father had made in the past about how a man having feelings for another man was nothing short of an abomination.

Sebastian wasn't religious, by any means. He was just embittered, and forced his sons into being subservient under the confines of hyper-masculinity. Murdoc knew that deep down, his father had seen his display of affection towards another boy as a resounding failure in his parenting.

"..No" Murdoc voiced shakily in responce, slightly defensive in his tone. He broke eye contact with his father, and started nervously fiddling with the TV remote in his unsteady hands. However, Murdoc could still very much feel his father's burning gaze set steadily on him from the other side of the room, and it unnerved him to his core. As the music coming from the TV filled the room, the sound transformed from pleasant to stifling, and Murdoc found himself hyper aware of his father's peculiar silence.

"I said, look at me" Sebastian stated, slightly louder this time, clearly aggravated by his son's apparent inattentiveness. Murdoc immediately glared at his father once more, his frustration showing in his youthful face. His father proceeded to lean foreword in his chair, almost threateningly, and raised a finger to point at Murdoc. "If you really aren't a fag, Murdoc. You'll have to prove it" he said. Murdoc let silence prevail as he waited for his father to elaborate.

As his father divulged his plan with Murdoc, the boy felt tears prick at his eyes. What his father had told him to do that day was diplorable, and at 3:30pm, when his dad drove him to the gates of the school to enact it, Murdoc found himself shivering with apprehension. He had no choice, and the thought of what was about to happen almost made him sick, as he wordlessly exited the car that was parked recklessly over the curb, and walked meekly into the empty school playground.

The blowing wind pricked goosebumps on his thin arms, as he stood still, and in wait. As Murdoc waited, he tried desperately to formulate a plan, any way he could get out of doing this. However, when he thought to bolt out of the school gates and down the street, he knew his father would soon catch him. When he considered the option of not carrying out the plan, he saw in his minds eye the throbbing bruises that would engulf his tender skin tomorrow. Murdoc was trapped, and teetering on the verge of breakdown as each painfully silent second passed him by.

The sound of the ringing school bell suddenly grated at his ears, and Murdoc watched as the assorted classroom doors opened in succession and hoards of students began to pour out of their final lessons into the playground. Parents began to enter the cemented area, impeding Murdoc's vision of the students as he sought out one child in particular. Murdoc craned his neck to look around the bodies of the parents stood surrounding him, his wild eyes flickering systematically from face to face, as Murdoc proceeded to search out his friend Ronny Bingham.

A few minutes went by, the amount of children flooding the playground beginning to diminish as they left the school premises, and Murdoc suddenly got a clear view of him. Ronny slowly stepped out of an adjoining classroom at the far end of the school building, and started walking unknowingly across the playground, heading towards the gates. He had his backpack lazily hanging over one of his arms, and clutched onto a small book, seemingly from his previous English lesson. Murdoc's heart began to pound like nothing he'd ever experienced before, as he began to gauge what he was about to do, and when his eyes fell on Ronny's unwitting face, he nearly fell apart.

However, he stifled his storming feelings down and decided to act without thinking, because he saw no feasible other option. Murdoc felt his father's gaze like a surveillance camera from the cars side window, and balled his fists to stop his hands from shaking. Ronny was approaching him now, still blissfully unaware of his awaiting fate, and Murdoc had to ready himself. Breathing heavy, Murdoc took a few small steps into Ronny's line of sight, and the other boy suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"Murdoc?" Ronny voiced in surprise, his eyes wide, and his hair blowing erratically in the wind. He hadn't seen the other boy in almost a month, and he had been stricken with overwhelming worry for far too long about how Murdoc had fared after the incident. Murdoc didn't respond, but took a silent, tentative step towards Ronny. Ronny, uneasy under Murdoc's strange glare, took a responsive step back, his confusion apparent in his innocent face. "Are-are you okay?" Ronny asked hesitantly. Murdoc again didn't answer, and took yet another step towards the other boy, face hardened, his knuckle flashing white as he tightly balled his right fist.

Ronny noticed the fist instantly, and struck with fear, his grip on the book he had been holding suddenly loosened, and it dropped quickly to the cold cement of the playground floor. At this, Murdoc took another slightly larger step towards Ronny, and now found himself standing directly before the other boy.

Before Ronny could react, Murdoc swung his fist into the side of his friend's face with immense force, and Ronny immediately crumpled to the ground. Various scattered parents gasped at the sight, and soon began to react, swiftly running towards the scene.

At the sight of his dearest friend, sprawled across the floor, blood trickling from his nose, Murdoc burst into a fit of tears. The only person that had ever given Murdoc a chance, had ever seen his potential and _befriended_ him, now lay slumped in his wake, and Murdoc was the one that put him there.

Practically shaking with emotion, Murdoc gazed down at his friend, and brought himself to speak. "I'm sorry" he whispered, blinking away his tears. He then turned his back on the other boy and bolted up the path, rapidly heading towards his father's parked car.

Murdoc didn't take a moment to look back, as he hastily entered the passenger seat through the car door that his dad eagerly held open for him. However, when the car screeched as it sped off, and the thought of what he had just done dawned on him, he broke down, burying his face in his hands as he wept uncontrollably. As he cried, Murdoc heard his father's voice meet his ears from the drivers seat.

"I'm proud of you, son".

 

                    

  
The memory was still vivid in Murdoc's mind, and he hated it. It practically reeked, and infested his entire being with its black connotations. Murdoc was drunk, and yet he could still see the whole sequence of events with over-whelming clarity, and it tore him apart.

Suddenly the four walls of the bustling night club felt like they were closing in on him, and he couldn't take it. Trying his best to distract himself, Murdoc reflexively pulled out his phone from his jean pocket as he stood beside the now busy shot bar. He unlocked it and proceeded to skim through his numerous unopened messages, drowning out his thoughts with the illuminated glare of a phone screen. That's when he saw it.

The unopened text from Stuart, laying in wait at the very bottom of his inbox. Murdoc clicked it without hesitation, and intently read the words that he hadn't seen for months, his eyes narrowing as he drunkenly pulled his phone closer to him to get a better look.

_Hey Muds.  
You got knocked out by some guy in a fight, so I called your band mates and found out where you live. Sorry about last night. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Call me when you're feeling better, maybe we could do that jam session soon?_

_Stuart x_

The words practically echoed in their gravity within the confines of Murdoc's intoxicated mind, and the booming sound of the club music and incessant chatter of the numerous club-goers surrounding him faded to nothingness as he reread the short message again and again.

Murdoc instantly knew what he had to do. He was finished with his identity being tied down to his late father's dictation. He was done with the endless guilt, the bargaining, the regret. It was time to bury his long-repressed insecurities along with his rotting father, and do something _right_ for a change.

He had to apologise to Stuart.


	10. Chapter 10

Murdoc drunkenly decided there was no better time than now, and he quickly formed his plan of action. First, he had to know Stuart's address. He moved away from the shot bar, and started scanning the crowd of people bobbing up and down in their groups, dancing to the music upon the lit up panels of the dance-floor.

He suddenly caught sight of Paula, her arm raised as she danced, hips swaying, a smile across her face as she moved flowingly. Murdoc scowled at her unwitting form. He knew she lived at the same address, however there was no way he was going to obtain any information from her, not after that altercation. He needed to find another way. Murdoc turned to look towards the bar at the front of the club, and he saw the skinny, scantily clad woman that had accompanied Paula during their stand off, stood adjacent to the bar, teetering in her spindly high heels and seemingly chatting to a group of people surrounding her.

A small, knowing smile formed on Murdoc's face as he swiftly began his approach, weaving through the bustling crowd towards the clubs front. She was drunk out of her mind, and Murdoc knew he had a knack for making women relax in his presence. Once Murdoc was stood directly behind her, he quickly geared himself up, slicking his hair down and straightening his shirt. Seduction was always an effective way of getting people to talk, and thankfully, Murdoc was a self-declared sex god. After a few moments of readying himself, he tapped her a couple of times on the shoulder.

When she turned to the bassist, her face quickly contorted with confusion. Murdoc, noticing the glazed over eyes and swaying stance that gave away her startling level of intoxication, pulled his lips into a dry, devilish smile in response. "Why are _you_ back?" She asked, slurring her speech and poking Murdoc lazily in the chest. Murdoc looked down at her finger prodding at his torso, and couldn't help but raise a judging eyebrow. The urge to swat her off of him was too strong, but he had to maintain the act if this plan was going to work.

Murdoc looked down at her with the most sincere face he could muster, and answered in a low-voiced, overtly flirtatious tone. "Because you were so gorgeous, I couldn't bring myself to forget that face of yours" he said, chucking her gently under the chin. At the contact, the woman smiled widely, her drunkenness now translating into childish giddiness.

Murdoc, seeing that his guise was working, spoke up again. "What's your name, love?" He asked, placing a hand in his jean pocket. The woman, after a few moments of drunkenly relishing in the bassist's undeviating attention, answered the man's enquiry. "Lorraine" she said, with a toothy grin. Murdoc smiled in response. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl" he lied. She laughed, but after a few moments her contented smile began to dissipate and her face contorted into a look of hang-lipped, glassy eyed confusion, and she responsively tightened her grip on the glass she was holding.

Murdoc, catching on to her peculiar expression, quickly inquired, internally wondering if his plan was already falling through. "You alright?" He asked Lorraine. Despite her drunkeness, she looked the man dead in the eyes as she spoke. "You.. You argued with my mate Paula didn't you?" She asked, almost innocently. Murdoc thought on his feet as he retorted, trying to maintain his suave, chilled out stance. He couldn't deny it, but seeing as currently, Lorraine was completely separate from Paula as they both enjoyed their night on opposite ends of the club, he judged that their ties may not be that strong; probably good acquaintances at best. "Yeah-" he bluntly answered. "But while she was yattering on, I couldn't help but sneak a few looks at you, and I thought, ' _who's that_ _stunner_?'".

Murdoc honestly didn't think his response was strong enough to work. Despite keeping up with the act, inside he already felt his spirits sinking. However, when he saw the woman's face light up in delight at his words, Murdoc couldn't help but exhale with relief. She leant in to him, placing a hand to rest on his shoulder. Murdoc struggled to fight the sudden urge to recoil away at the smell of pungent alcohol on her hot breath as she entered his vicinity. "You're a charmer. Aren't you?" She stated, eyes intimately connecting with Murdoc's. Murdoc smiled down at her, and looped an arm behind her to rest a hand across her lower back.

She wriggled a little at the contact, and felt a flame build up within her. Murdoc quickly caught on to her shift in energy. He leant in to her, so none of her friends could hear his inquiry. "So, where are you staying tonight?" He asked, seductively into her ear. She smiled, but didn't break away from the bassist's contact. "At Paula's flat actually.." she laughed. Murdoc needed more than that. He brought himself to speak up again. "The flat isn't far away is it? I can't wait too long to have you" he whispered in a breathy, needy tone. Lorraine leant into him even more, and answered quietly, matching his energy. "Nah, it's only at the end of the road..Number sixteen, or something like that" she breathed.

Murdoc pulled away immediately from the woman, and she stumbled in her heels at the quick break in contact. Lorraine reflexively brushed her hiked-up skirt down and looked with an air of pure discombobulation at the man before her. "Thanks for that, love" Murdoc quickly answered, bearing a smug smile. The woman was clearly speechless, and her eyes widened in confusion as Murdoc proceeded to brush past her and make his way towards the clubs exit, not giving the woman a second look as he strode away.

Murdoc almost laughed to himself as he stepped out of the club into the streets. He knew that soon enough, his actions would come back to bite him. But right now, he was drunk, he was in the best mood he'd been in for months, and he was going to see Stuart again. However, the bassist's contented smile soon dissipated when the rain, that was heavily pouring down at this point, began to soak his hair and coat his T-shirt, and he cringed as his foot suddenly met a large puddle in the middle of the street, and the cold water sloshed back onto his jeans.

Murdoc decided to tread carefully, and resumed his position on the path. Around him, Murdoc could see the odd club-goer scurrying out of the venues into parked taxis, holding their bags above their heads to guard them from the torrential downpour. Taxis and cars buzzed past every so often, reflecting dancing neon light of the bars and clubs on their surfaces and displacing the puddles scattered across the road. It was past midnight, and the bassist knew he had to find this place before Paula and Lorraine got there and barred the door shut or something.

He swiftly took in his surroundings, and saw that to his right, down the length of the path, was the way that he and Stuart had walked all those months ago. He smiled at the memory, and catching sight of those great oak trees lining the pavement and the street lamps casting yellow spot lights upon its length was almost nostalgic in its beauty. He knew that that night had turned sour, but when they were walking side by side, chatting and joking with each other, Stuart had made him feel safe, and not many people could do that nowadays. Murdoc dragged his mind away from the memory of that night, as he could think about it for hours, and the thought of it never failed to keep him happily distracted in its wake.

Murdoc knew that street wasn't going to get him to Stuart's, so he turned on his heel and began walking upwards, seeing that there was a neighbourhood stretching across a road to his left. He noticed how the path had a slight incline, and huffed as he felt his thighs working to counter act the gradient. His cuban heels slapping small puddles across the concrete, and with rain pattering against his now sodden form, Murdoc walked.

When he noticed the numbers on the houses lining the street beginning with one, the bassist silently celebrated to himself at the knowledge that he was heading in the right direction. Murdoc carried on with his journey until he reached number sixteen, making a conscious effort to walk without thinking, because he was sure that if he ruminated on this, there was a possibility he may reconsider, or crumble under the sheer anticipation of it all.

When Murdoc reached Stuart's flat, he took it in for a few moments. It was a shoddy looking place, with grime lacing the walls and the paint cracking away from the front doors surface. They clearly didn't concern themselves with the upkeep of the building, however Murdoc quickly reasoned that he wasn't one to judge. He walked the length of the small path before it, catching sight of the looming red oak at the flats side, leaves rustling as the rain violently pattered against them. Letting the alcohol in his bloodstream power his movements, Murdoc approached the door, took in a deep breath, and pressed the door bell twice.

Nothing. Murdoc let some time pass, and then pressed the door bell twice more. As each silent second passed by, Mudoc's nerves rose up within his being, and all he wanted was for Stuart to answer the door before his anticipation got the better of him. However, when no one answered, Murdoc felt himself giving up.

In a defeated stance, sodden hair plastered to his face and cuban heels squelching beneath his feet, Murdoc began to walk away. The bassist knew it was late, but reasoned that he wouldn't try this again at a more reasonable hour. Murdoc was never the apologising type, and Stuart not answering the door translated to him as the universes sign that really, the other man didn't care anymore. Maybe Murdoc had allowed too much time to pass. Maybe he was apologising for something that had faded from relevancy within the mind of the younger man, and by doing this, Murdoc was simply unearthing something better left forgotten.

As his doubting thoughts consumed him, Murdoc didn't hear the front door of Number Sixteen open behind his unknowing form. But then, a familiar voice met his ears. "Murdoc?" The small sound stopped the bassist in his tracks, and he turned immediately to face his addressor.

Stuart was stood in the door way, slightly silhouetted by the light emanating from the house behind him. He was wearing a loose fitting T-shirt and baggy pyjama shorts, and had clearly just been torn from his sleep by the bassist, as Murdoc saw Stuart rub at his face with his hand in a sleepless manner, as he leant his body ever so slightly on the door frame. Despite Murdoc's view of the other man being unclear, he could see that Stuart looked slightly puzzled at the sight of the man before him, and Murdoc just stood there in the rain, equally as clueless.

However, without thinking, Murdoc took a few steps closer. Stuart watched curiously as Murdoc made his way towards him, evidently bewildered at the sight of a man he had assigned only to his memories, now stood at his own doorstep. When he was standing directly before the other man, Murdoc hanged his shoulders, exhaled deeply and brought himself to speak. "I'm sorry, Stuart" he announced in a humble tone that took the younger man slightly aback.

Seeing that Stuart was still speechless, Murdoc reluctantly continued. "I'm sorry for everything. I was a dick that night, and I was a dick for never replying to your message. You might hate me, and that's fine...I can live with that. But I just had to get it out there while i'm off my head and-".

Murdoc's words were abruptly cut off as Stuart took a step down from the doorway, and wrapped his long arms around him, pulling the sodden bassist into a sudden, tight embrace. Murdoc's eyes widened at the unexpected contact, but he soon relaxed as Stuart's warm body intimately connected with his, and he leant his head delicately into the other man's shoulder, wrapping his own arms around the other man, his hands softly resting on Stuart's lower back.

The bassist closed his eyes, and relished in the moment, as he felt the rise and fall of the younger man's breathing and was consumed with the much welcomed sensation of complete and utter bliss.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay disclaimer that if you don't like smut, don't read these next two chapters lol

  
Murdoc didn't want to let go. The fact that Stuart had forgiven him without question was overwhelming, and he found himself not wanting this pure moment between the two to end. He was steadily sobering up now, and although usually, the feeling of low levels of alcohol in his system was one he couldn't stand, Murdoc found himself hopelessly intoxicated by the intimacy of this simple hug. After a few moments, Stuart and Murdoc slowly pulled away from each other, their gentle, slowly taken breathes synchronised, gazing vulnerably into each other's eyes.

It was almost like nothing needed to be said, like the two men could go on now without uttering a word and yet completely understanding each other. However, Stuart, looking down at Murdoc confidently, gave the bassist the affirmation he sought in just one simply said sentence. "You came all the way here Muds, and that's enough of an apology" He whispered.

Those words, although beautiful in their simplicity, also took the bassist slightly aback. There was always a part of Murdoc's consciousness that nagged at him when people showed him affection like this, telling him over and over that he didn't really deserve it. He knew he wasn't a traditionally good person by a long mile, and Murdoc always felt that when people accepted him wholeheartedly like this, they were merely addressing a facade. He smiled back, but there was something more behind it that he couldn't quite voice. Something new, and it frightened him.

Without Stuart's warm body wrapped around his, Murdoc suddenly felt a rush of cold wind meet his sodden clothes, and he tensed up slightly, his exposed arms pricking with goosebumps. Stuart noticed with a start how wet the other man was, and looked down at his own shirt to see a large sodden patch left behind from their hug. "Look at the state of us" the taller man giggled, as the rain continued to pour down on them. Murdoc, who was clearly the more soaked of the two, his hair plastered to his face and his T-shirt heavy with water, crossed his arms in an effort to keep warm and raised an eyebrow at the other man. "Speak for yourself, mate" he joked sarcastically through chattering teeth.

At this, Stuart broke into laughter and Murdoc, silently happy that he had made the younger man laugh, chuckled along, brushing his sodden hair back off of his face. Stuart then angled his body towards the doorway of the flat and with a smile on his face, gestured for Murdoc to go in. Murdoc silently obliged, and his cuban heels clacked against the wooden floor of the hallway as he stepped into the building, Stuart following closely behind.

The entire flat was silent, and Murdoc, judging that Stuart's flat mates were probably fast asleep, made a conscious effort to hush the sound of his movements. He quickly saw that there was an open door to his right that lead to a large living room and adjoining kitchen, and before Murdoc lay a staircase heading to the upper floor.

Water dripped from both of their persons onto the floor, and Murdoc heard the taller man whisper quietly behind him. "You can stay here tonight if you want. My room's upstairs" Stuart suggested. Murdoc nodded and proceeded to walk up the stairs, quietly heading to the first floor where all of the bedrooms resided.

The first room Murdoc noticed at the top of the stairs bore a startlingly bright red door that was painted cleanly, and lay ever so slightly ajar. Upon it was a Japenese ornament of some kind, hanging from a hook on its surface, and below this was a drawing stuck down at a slight angle with tack.

When Murdoc got a bit closer he saw the drawing was certainly made by a child, with crayon-drawn stick figures of each member of their band, and the bassist smiled as Stuart's figure bore spider-like legs and a shock of hastily drawn neon blue hair. Beneath the characters the phrase 'Gorillaz' was scribbled in large lettering, and Murdoc assumed it was the bands name. An interesting choice of title, Murdoc judged. Probably not one he would choose himself.

Presuming that this was the famed six year old prodigy's room that Stuart had told him about all those months ago, Murdoc turned to walk to the left of it, down a narrow corridor that was lined with the rest of the bedrooms. "Mine's the one on the end" Stuart voiced as they walked. As he made his way towards it, Murdoc observed a room with a sleek black door and band posters stuck across it in an unruly fashion, and next to it, a room with a white door, decorated with layers upon layers of neon coloured spray paint. When Murdoc finally reached Stuart's door, a plain white one with the paint falling away at its edges, he let the taller man lead the way in.

Stuart opened the door, letting Murdoc walk in before pushing the door to a near silent close behind him. Murdoc then proceeded to take a look around the place. A single unmade bed was pushed into the rooms corner, and strewn across the walls randomly were pieces of note paper, bearing strange scribblings of what looked like small poems or lyrics upon their crinkled surfaces.

The bin beneath the desk was full to the brim with crumpled paper balls and some stray sheets lay across the uneven top of the younger man's bed. Murdoc's eyes widened as he saw that Stuart had even written a few scribblings on the paint of his walls. At the right of the room was a wardrobe, and adjacent to it was a large Casio CT-670 keyboard, its stall pushed neatly into the space below it. Surrounding the piano on the carpeted floor were various models of melodicas, and right in the corner of the room a four stringed guitar was tucked neatly away, leaning upon the wall.

Now that the two men were in an enclosed space, they could speak a bit louder, and Stuart, seeing that Murdoc was observing the place, quickly spoke up in an apologetic tone. "I know, I know.. It's a bit of a bomb site in here." he voiced. Murdoc smiled in response, turning to the younger man as he did so. "If you think this is bad, remind me never to show you my room" he laughed. Stuart smiled at how accepting the other man was, almost forgetting that the two were still hopelessly sopping wet. When he realised, he quickly spoke up as he made his way towards the wardrobe.

"I'm gonna change. Do you wanna borrow some of my clothes? I don't mind". Stuart proposed as he opened the wardrobe doors. Murdoc exhaled in relief at the other man's suggestion, and quickly shook off his shoes. "I thought you'd never ask" the bassist said as he then hastily pulled off his heavy, sodden T-shirt and let it fall to the floor. Stuart handed Murdoc a pale blue T-shirt and a pair of baggy pyjama trousers, and then began salvaging clothes for himself to wear.

The bassist stared down at the pastel coloured shirt in his hands and raised an eyebrow. "Baby blue..? Really?" He joked. Stuart turned to look at the bassist and chuckled at the other man's comically hardened expression. "You're only gonna sleep in it Murdoc. But if you really don't want to wear it.." He started. "Nah-" Murdoc interrupted. "i'll wear it. But just know that this is the _only_ time you will see me in this sodding colour" the bassist stated with a smirk. At this, Stuart giggled, and then began pulling off his own dripping shirt.

The bassist couldn't help but sneak a look as the taller man pulled his shirt over his head to expose his pale, skinny yet surprisingly lean torso. However, before Stuart caught him looking, Murdoc swiftly tore his eyes away and decided that starting a conversation would keep him distracted from the half-naked man before him. "So 'Gorillaz' eh? Interesting band name." He inquired curiously, before pulling on the fresh T-shirt over his head.

Stuart smiled at this, as he unfolded his shirt and began to put it on. "Yeah it is. Noodle came up with it. Gorillas have always been her favourite animal, she draws 'em all the time. Russel decided he would make the name cooler by adding a 'z' at the end instead of an 's'" The taller man explained as he straightened his shirt.

Murdoc nodded, then gestured to the numerous used sheets of paper riddling the walls. "So what's all this about then? You working on an album?" The bassist asked, walking towards a particular sheet that happened to be type-written on the wall nearest to him. "Well yeah, I guess so.." Stuart hesitantly began. "I've been writing a few songs.. But I don't do it with an album in sight. I just kinda write them as they come to me and decide later what to do with 'em" Stuart responded thoughtfully.

Murdoc tilted his head curiously as he studied the sheet of lyrics before him. The song had a title that had clearly been drafted and redrafted numerous times, with various scribbled-out contenders encircling the title Stuart had seemingly decided to settle on. It read 'Tomorrow Comes Today' and Murdoc narrowed his eyes at the peculiar statement.

The song was only half-finished, the words seemingly trailing off into nothingness after around two verses, and as Murdoc read it, Stuart quickly spoke up upon noticing the bassist's keen observance of his own lyrics. "Ah. That's one I was working on earlier today actually" the taller man stated as he looped on a fresh pair of boxers while the bassist's back was turned.

Murdoc scanned the first few lines, and felt his mind working as he tried to deconstruct their meaning. However, at the ominous ambiguity of the words before him, Murdoc found himself itching for an answer to the questions they evoked. "What's it about?" Murdoc inquired, interest peaking at the profundity of the line 'The digital won't let me go'. It sounded dark, and Murdoc wasn't expecting Stuart to write as he appeared to.

Stuart straightened, and as he did so, he quietly exhaled in relief at the feeling of a full set of dry clothes on his skin before answering. "It's about a lot of things. My songs are mostly conceptual.. Like a bunch of thoughts all written down at once-". Murdoc turned to make eye contact with the younger man as he answered. "But I guess this one is about feeling alone when it comes down to it. Being alone in a world you don't understand" Stuart mused, his facial expression innocently contemplative.

Murdoc nodded, finding himself a little speechless at Stuart's impressive song writing skills. "I've been meaning to say actually-" Stuart quickly voiced, and Murdoc watched as the taller man walked towards the keyboard and pulled out the stall from beneath it. Stuart then sat on the stall and angled his body towards Murdoc. "Can I show you what It sounds like so far? Maybe you could help me with the bass notes, cos I don't know at this point which ones fit with the song" Stuart asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Murdoc answered with a small smile on his face. "Yeah, of course mate. Go ahead" he said, gesturing happily for the taller man to begin playing. Stuart smiled humbly in response, and turned towards the keyboard, beginning to position his fingers delicately on the correct keys. Murdoc took off his wet jeans and boxers at this point, and unfolded the pyjama bottoms Stuart had handed him previously. Listening intently to the other man as he began to play the first few notes of the songs eery introduction, Murdoc pulled on the dry set of trousers.

The notes seemed to ring out within the room, and Murdoc noted the interesting chord progression and time signature, beginning to subconsciously tap his foot to the beat. It already sounded like a song you'd find in the charts, but when Stuart started singing, Murdoc found himself completely dumbfounded by the vulnerable, low voice that met his ears, and his rythmic tapping came to a shaky stop as his mind focussed on the singer before him.

The bumbling, shaky cockney tone that the bassist had grown accustomed to was now replaced with something entirely different, like a completely new side of Stuart had suddenly been released, and Murdoc observed it happening before him with undeviated attention.


	12. Chapter 12

When Stuart was about to enter the second verse, Murdoc couldn't help but jut in and give the song some extra depth with a few whirring bass notes. The older man hurried to sit on the small stall beside Stuart, the sides of their bodies connecting, and Murdoc began to press a few of the keys at the lower end of the keyboard. Stuart noticed, but continued to sing, his eyes watching what Murdoc was playing curiously.

At first, the notes the bassist chose didn't really work, and between playing, Stuart attempted to guide the other man's hand to a more suitable chord progression, recognising that piano wasn't Murdoc's usual choice of instrument. However Murdoc was stubborn in his ways, and knew he could make the notes work when they were accompanied with a suitable rhythm. At the feeling of Stuart's hand on his, Murdoc swatted him away and continued to fumble with the notes, desperately trying to prove his point. Stuart smiled widely at how offended the other man seemed, and began to sing the final chorus through a lingering toothy grin at the other man's steadfastness.

Stuart was nearing the end of the song when Murdoc finally aligned all of his ideas into coherency, and his bass notes began to fit well with Stuart's chords. At this, the singer began to nod his head to the songs newly modified rhythm and Murdoc, noticing Stuart's enjoyment of his playing, smiled smugly as he continued to press at the keys.

There they were, locked in a tightly fitting harmony, and Murdoc found himself letting the singer's voice relax him fully as they sat with their bodies touching, side by side. When the song drew to a close, there was a moment where the two of them didn't say anything. Murdoc was totally awestricken by Stuart's vocals, and the other man felt vulnerably speechless in the wake of his own singing, his fingers still lingering shakily on the piano keys, his eyes averted from Murdoc's gaze. Stuart noticed that it felt as if he'd somehow let Murdoc in on something that was usually very personal to him, and he waited quietly for the bassist's reaction.

Both found themselves enthralled in a comfortable silence, but something new was in the atmosphere between the two men. As if the room was suddenly filled with potential, and Murdoc quickly caught onto the shift in energy between the two. With wonder in his eyes, Murdoc's gruff voice suddenly met Stuart's ears. "You're bloody brilliant" he stated, with genuine conviction. Stuart turned to the bassist, and Murdoc noticed how their faces were now closer than they had ever been before. Both men could see every detail of one another's face and Stuart smiled in response, his cheeks flushing slightly at the other man's words.

  
"Thanks, Muds" he whispered.

  
With that, Murdoc couldn't hold himself back any longer. The atmosphere between the two men was noticeably tense, and yet so gentle in its vulnerability, as they felt each other's slowed breathing, and gazed at one another with steady, un-breaking eye contact.

Murdoc suddenly felt himself being called to act upon a nagging feeling rising up inside of him with every inch of his being, to translate the energy between them into something physical. Therefore, without thinking, Murdoc brought a hand to rest gently at the side of Stuart's head, entangling his fingers into the other man's hair and moving slowly in a delicate, massaging motion, he tucked Stuart's hair behind his ear.

Stuart leaned into the contact, and at the confirmation that the other man was accepting of his sudden display of affection, Murdoc leant his face closer to Stuart's, so close that when Stuart reciprocated the intimacy, their lips connected delicately.

The kiss began with a careful testing of the waters as the two men searched for a suitable rhythm for them both, tilting their heads accordingly and tongues slipping in passionately every so often, albeit with a note of caution at the unfamiliarity of it all. This was the first time Murdoc had kissed a man, and the sensation of stubble rubbing across stubble, and hearing low, gruff breathes and moans in place of high pitched, womanly ones was a new experience for him.

However soon enough, after the initial cautious to and fro, Murdoc soon began to relish in the tantalising sensation of Stuart's lips meeting his, and so he brought another tender hand to rest at the other side of the younger man's face, and closing his eyes tightly, proceeded to kiss the man with unbridled passion. Stuart reciprocated Murdoc's enflaming movements with slightly louder intermittent groans and deeply taken breathes, biting at the other man's top lip every so often with lust in his eyes.

Recognising that this was probably Murdoc's first time with another man, Stuart decided to take the lead. While they continued to kiss, the younger man brought a gentle hand to Murdoc's crotch area, and began caressing his hard-on in soft, circular motions. As Stuart's hand stroked slowly over Murdoc's cock in his pyjama trousers, the bassist broke the kiss a few times to lean back on the piano stall and moan loudly, taking sharp, hasty breaths as the feeling of the other man's hand consumed his senses.

Stuart, noticing how much he was turning the other man on, leaned into the bassist as his strokes got more and more vigorous, and when Murdoc broke the eye contact between the two men to look down at the sight of the singer stroking his cock, Stuart tilted the bassist's head back up to meet his lustful gaze. As he stared up at the other man, Murdoc began to naturally lower himself so he was lying on the piano stall, and Stuart moved towards the lower half of the bassist's body, pulling down the other man's pyjama trousers to expose his hard, throbbing cock.

Stuart stared for a moment at the man's noticeably large dick, a small smile painted across his face. While proceeding to make unrelenting eye contact with the other man, he leant down and tenderly licked the sensitive head, then brought his tongue to lick across Murdoc's length. Murdoc shivered at the sensation, his mouth falling open as he grunted, riding his hips into each wave of much welcomed contact.

It all felt so wrong, and uncomprehendingly new. Murdoc never thought he would ever act upon his bisexual impulses and engage in this type of activity with a man, and despite it still being extremely alien to him, it also felt _good_ , and he allowed Stuart's movements to take over his body.

The singer brought up a hand to caress Murdoc's balls, and then lowered his head in order to take the entirety of Murdoc's length into his warm mouth. At this, Murdoc bit down on his lip, and placed both of his hands at the top of the singer's head to grip at Stuart's hair as the younger man's head proceeded to bob up and down slowly, expertly sucking Murdoc's cock.

The sucking and bobbing motions proceeded to get increasingly frequent, and Murdoc had to suddenly break his hands away from within Stuart's hair and rest them above his own head, moaning loudly and whispering slurs every so often at the overwhelming hoard of sensations. When Murdoc was fully aroused, Stuart slowly stopped sucking, and while wiping precum and saliva from around his mouth with his arm, he brought his head up to gaze at Murdoc longingly. Stuart then climbed up on top of the bassist and locked lips with him in yet another passionate kiss, both men's hands briskly exploring and caressing every inch of the other's body as they did so.

Soon enough, Murdoc decided to finally take action as the atmosphere got even more heated between the two, and rose up from the piano stall with Stuart in his arms, and with interludes of long, passionate kisses, Murdoc hauled Stuart towards the bed in the corner of the room, and placed the other man upon it, falling on top of him to rest between Stuart's widely spread legs. Murdoc then proceeded to hastily pull off his T-shirt, and Stuart helped him to take off his trousers completely. When he was completely naked, throbbing hard-on twitching as he moved, Murdoc pushed Stuart's T-shirt from his body and threw it to the floor.

Murdoc leant down to take Stuart in completely. With both hands, Murdoc tenderly felt every inch of Stuart's exposed torso, and took a moment to lick lightly at the other man's nipples. Stuart moaned needily in response, and riding the wave of his endorphins, bucked his hips in order to grind his own hard-on against the bassist's. Murdoc caught on to the other man's longing, and proceeded to pull down Stuart's pyjama shorts to expose his throbbing dick and pink, pulsating asshole. "I want it, Muds" Stuart voiced as Murdoc stared down with a devilish smile at the man before him. It was all getting too much now, and Stuart craved the satisfaction of having Murdoc's length deep within him. It was all he could think about.

Murdoc wanted to tease the other man until he couldn't stand it any longer, to give him what he deserved and even more. It had been too long since Murdoc and Stuart had last been together, and after their first meeting, the bassist had admittedly briefly imagined what sex between them would have been like. However, every time his mind had drifted to that place, he had suppressed the thought of ever being with another man out of sheer self-hatred and denial. Now that they were actually doing this, Murdoc decided with every inch of his being that he wasn't going to rush a single thing.

Murdoc pushed apart Stuart's legs and placed his own head between them, his long tongue meeting the delicate outer surface of the other man's entrance. Murdoc grunted as he proceeded to then move his tongue in soft, circular motions across the sensitive muscle. Stuart immediately tensed up with pleasure, and brought his hands to clutch at the top of Murdoc's head, balling the bassist's jet black, wiry hair and moaning loudly.

After getting the circumference of Stuart's entrance dripping wet with his saliva, Murdoc began to insert his tongue deep into Stuart's entrance while stroking around the younger man's groin and inner thighs with widely splayed hands. Stuart bucked his hips at the sensation, and Murdoc saw the other man's heightened arousal as a sign that he could now make use of his fingers.

Murdoc moved his head away from Stuart's asshole and leant in to kiss the other man, and while he did so, the bassist proceeded to position his finger at Stuart's entrance. Murdoc then slowly inserted his finger, feeling Stuart's warm, throbbing muscle enclosing around it. After slowly getting as deep as he could possibly go, Murdoc then pushed in another finger along with the first as he reinserted himself into Stuart, and earned himself a loud, high pitched moan from the other man as he fingered him, seemingly because Murdoc was close to Stuart's sensitive prostate.

Murdoc continued to stretch and finger Stuart for a few minutes, until the other man was a mess of moans and glistening sweat, writhing around on the bed between the unruly bed sheets at each of Murdoc's intentionally tantalising movements. Eventually, Murdoc relented and rose upwards, kneeling between Stuart's legs. The bassist quickly began pumping at his own member, dutifully preparing himself. Stuart watched intently for a few moments, but then reached over to his bed side table and handed Murdoc a small bottle that he had salvaged. "Here, use this" Stuart suggested seductively.

Murdoc obliged and squirted the lube onto his hands, and then began rubbing it slowly over his cock. He then leant down and smoothed the rest of the lube over Stuart's throbbing entrance. Now that they were both ready, Murdoc pulled Stuart into him and slowly pushed his entire length into the other man. "Oh fuuuck" Stuart moaned when the intensity of the pleasure suddenly hit him, his torso rising and falling, breathing deeply as Murdoc entered him. Murdoc smiled devilishly at the squirming man before him, and began to drive himself at a gradually quickening pace in and out of Stuart's stretching asshole.

The single bed creaked as Murdoc humped Stuart hastily, grunting deeply with every thrust. At one point, Murdoc hit Stuart's prostate again, and the singer couldn't help but yelp with pleasure. However, noticing that the other man was getting a little too loud, considering all of his other flat mates were fast asleep, Murdoc decided to stifle Stuart's moans by placing his fingers into the other man's open mouth. Stuart responsively began to suck at Murdoc's fingers, and the bassist was nearly sent over the edge with the sense of dominating control the seductive contact brought with it, and he quickened his thrusting, his balls slapping against Stuart's ass loudly.

They were both close now, and Murdoc, seeing that Stuart was nearing the edge, decided to help him along by pumping Stuart's twitching cock as he thrust into him. Stuart orgasmed first, clutching onto Murdoc as he did so with tense fingertips, and riding out his all-consuming orgasm as Murdoc stroked his length slowly. Murdoc came not long after into Stuart's hole, moaning loudly as he did so, and then flopped onto Stuart's sweaty, hot body in exhaustion.

Stuart held the bassist laying above him for a few moments, the rise and fall of their chests synchronised as they took quick breathes in the wake of their peak in pleasure. After regaining coherency, Murdoc slowly adjusted himself so he was laying to Stuart's side, resting his head on the younger man's chest.

At this contact, Stuart held the other man tightly, and leant down to kiss Murdoc gently on the forehead as their bodies were consumed by the bed sheets, breathing slowing down, minds totally relaxed as they held each other in an affirming embrace.


	13. Chapter 13

The two didn't speak for a while. Murdoc closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the other man breathing, relishing in the feeling of the rise and fall of Stuart's chest, his warmth, the younger man's hot breath falling on his forehead. It had all happened so fast, Murdoc hadn't yet had time to process what they just did. It was so hasty, so filled with need, like they had been itching to sleep together since they had first met.

But currently, he was laying on another man's chest, and it was different, but it also felt so _natural_. The bassist had slept with so many women he'd lost count years ago, and every time he'd pull a girl and take her home, after they'd had sex there was nothing more they could offer him. Shallow, one night stands were Murdoc's specialty, and he wasn't usually a cuddler by any means. However, his actions were surprising to even him, and despite it all being completely new, these alien feelings were admittedly extremely refreshing for the bassist; Like something had suddenly clicked.

Murdoc adjusted himself so he was leaning even closer to the other man, his leg laying slightly across Stuart's, his hand resting against the younger man's chest, nuzzling into Stuart's shoulder. Stuart responded with a deep, calm exhale, tightening his grasp around the other man lovingly. However, as they mutually held each other, Murdoc was completely unaware that Stuart was in fact deep in thought.

The singer broke the silence with his hushed voice, and Murdoc felt the other man's chest vibrating as he spoke. "Muds.. I know you said sorry and all for what happened that night-" he began, somewhat tentatively. Murdoc's ears pricked, listening intently at the mention of their rocky last meeting. "..But what is going on with you? Like one minute you're angry about me giving you my jacket, saying it's gay, and then the next we are doing...yanno, this" he finished, a little hesitant.

Murdoc sighed. There were certain topics that he just didn't ever want to broach, and this was one. Putting into words something that he had only just came to the edge of understanding was going to be difficult, but despite himself, he judged that Stuart deserved an explanation. Murdoc sat up in bed, breaking away from the other man's warm chest. Stuart got up after him, adjusting himself so he could look at Murdoc as he spoke.

Murdoc thought about his words before he began. He wanted so badly for his explanation to be clear, but it wasn't. It unearthed memories of his grey childhood, a youth he'd judged long ago that he'd rather forget. It explained his questionable actions to this day; things about himself that he couldn't easily bring himself to surmise. However, right now, he had to try. "Well.. Stu. First thing you have to know about me, is i'm rrreally messed up" He began in a somewhat comical tone, despite his inapparent tenseness.

Stuart felt his heart flutter at the sound of Murdoc using his nickname, but continued to listen to the other man intently. Since they had met, Murdoc had always been a mysterious figure to the singer, as Stuart had judged that how Murdoc presented himself probably didn't always align with what was inside. He felt he knew the other man, but that knowing somehow ended at the surface, and he could tell that the bassist was far more complex than he came across.

"For a long time, I didn't know what the fuck I was. And it seems that everyone in my life so far has made _sure_ I don't". Murdoc felt tears prick at his eyes, but he didn't let any emotion escape in his expression. He had had a lot of practise in the area of emotional suppression, and his hardened face didn't betray his feelings to the other man. At Murdoc's pause, Stuart quickly spoke up, needing an elaboration, hanging off every word that the other man uttered. "How so?" The singer inquired, with a sympathetic expression.

"I mean, I could talk about it for a decade mate, how long do you wanna listen to me yatter on?" Murdoc asked, turning to the other man with a slightly raised eyebrow. Stuart leaned closer, placing a hand to Murdoc's cheek, caressing the other man tenderly with the slow back and forth of his thumb. Murdoc looked into the other man's eyes, taking in how beautifully glassy they were. His eyes flitted as he observed Stuart's perfect, slightly parted pink lips, his alabaster pale skin, the way his shocking blue hair fell around the other man's face so perfectly. "I'll listen for as long as it takes, Muds" Stuart whispered.

With that, Murdoc poured his heart out. He told Stuart about his father, the relentless bullying. He even told Stuart about Ronny. Stuart listened to the bassist speak for hours, and Murdoc didn't miss a single detail. Despite his valiant attempts, when talking about Ronny, Murdoc couldn't stifle the tears that lingered in the corners of his tired eyes any longer. He cried whilst he spoke, as he told Stuart about how he had punched the poor boy; how when he did it, he had felt like an echo of his dad.

These were memories that Murdoc had kept dutifully stored away in the black recesses of his mind. They had been left to rot there for years upon years, and recalling it all like this was an overwhelming acknowledgment that the events in fact happened. His emotions burst forth from his being, but he let them. He allowed his inner feelings to bubble up to the surface because for once in his miserable life, Murdoc had found someone he could trust.

When he finished, Stuart wrapped his arms around Murdoc's sobbing form from behind, resting them at the bassist's lower waist as they sat up in bed. The singer then leant his head on Murdoc's shoulder, nuzzling into the other man, placing a soft kiss on the smooth skin of Murdoc's neck. Murdoc closed his stinging eyes and leant into the contact, breathing out deeply, and placing his own hands over Stuart's. "Muds...do you think that maybe you're bisexual?" Stuart inquired as he held the bassist tightly.

Murdoc's heart raced at the sound of Stuart's words. His usual reaction to such an assumption wasn't pleasant, but this time, the short, tentative question that escaped the singer's mouth was welcomed whole-heartedly by the bassist. It felt overwhelmingly good to hear it out loud, like everything had finally made sense, and hearing it from another person was the final sense of confirmation Murdoc needed.

Murdoc angled himself so he was sitting opposite Stuart, and the singer responsively broke his arms from the bassist's waist and shifted foreword so both men were sat on the bed, intimately face to face. "I don't think i'm bi, Stu. I _know_ I am" Murdoc stated, with a small smile on his lips.

Stuart grinned in response, quickly holding out his arms to give Murdoc a hug. With glistening, teary eyes, Murdoc leant foreword to embrace the other man, and they held each other tightly. While they hugged, Murdoc spoke once more as he leant his head on Stuart's shoulder, his voice shaking with emotion. "And that's something i've wanted to say for a very long time" he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and falling onto Stuart's back as he exhaled with relief at the feeling of the other man responsively hugging him even tighter.

That night, the two men cuddled until they finally fell asleep, their embracing bodies encased in the warm bed sheets, limbs intertwined, breathing slow and relaxed, a level of tranquility that Murdoc hadn't known for months.

 

                      ***

 

The soft light that seeped through Stuart's curtains entered the room and fell onto the bed, bouncing off the two men's glowing skin as they finally began to stir. Murdoc, who was holding Stuart before him as they laid, began to slowly open his eyes and grunted as he began to move and stretch. He leant into Stuart's neck, and whispered in a low, groggy voice. "Mornin'" he said as he brought a hand to lovingly stroke back Stuart's unruly hair. Stuart grunted sleepily, his eyes still firmly closed, softly refusing to be awoken.

Murdoc smiled at the other man's sleepiness, and looked to the alarm clock on the bedside table. It read 2:32 pm, and his eyes widened as he realised how late it was. "Or rather, Afternoon" the bassist laughed. Stuart let out a soft moan as he pulled the bed covers over him to encase himself in dark. Murdoc let out a toothy grin, and propped himself on his elbow, laying on his side. There was no rush to get out of bed, and so he allowed the other man to drift back to sleep.

However, Stuart's peaceful slumber was short-lived, and he woke with a start around twenty minutes later as the sound of thundering drums, crashing symbols, and obnoxiously loud electric guitar riffs assaulted his ears. Murdoc, who had been propped up in bed, reading over some of the sheets of lyrics he found laying on the floor of Stuart's room, was also equally as startled at the sound, seemingly coming from the floor below.

Stuart groaned as he stretched and slowly sat up in bed, rubbing at his face with his hand sleepily. The music was almost deafening, and Stuart was clearly annoyed at being torn from his sleep so abruptly. "Sodding band practise..." Stuart murmured as he rubbed at his eyes. Murdoc couldn't help but chuckle a little at the other man's annoyance. "Shouldn't you be there as well?" Murdoc inquired. With tired eyes, Stuart slowly angled himself so he was sat at the edge of the bed, and planted his feet on the rumbling floor. "Yeah, I should" the singer sighed before standing up.

Murdoc lifted the bed covers, and lazily got out of bed. Both men were naked, and proceeded to begin getting changed. After Murdoc had pulled on one of Stuart's T-shirts and a pair of jeans, the taller man, who was half-dressed, wrapped his arms around Murdoc's waist from behind. The bassist leant into Stuart, holding the taller man's arms. "You know I'm proud of you Murdoc. For what you said last night" Stuart whispered into Murdoc's ear as he held him. "I'm bloody proud of myself too" Murdoc chuckled. "It only took me twenty something years to admit it.. All that stuff was like a sodding dirty secret, and i'm so glad I have got it off my chest. Thanks for listening, Stu" Murdoc said sincerely, a small smile on his face. Stuart softly kissed Murdoc's forehead in response.

When the two men were completely dressed, they headed downstairs to join band practice, Murdoc deciding he would watch. Stuart walked in front of Murdoc down the stairs, the music growing louder and louder as they neared the living room. When the two men entered the fairly expansive living room, the music stopped, and Murdoc stood to the side of Stuart, finally seeing Stuart's band mates.

The little Japanese girl, who Murdoc now knew was Noodle, had an electric guitar strapped around her torso, the bulk of it almost comically grazing the floor due to the instrument being nearly as big as her. She had her hair loose and was bare foot, wearing comfortable clothes. To the side of her was a fairly large man sat at a drum set in the middle of the living room, holding the sticks in one hand and looking up to Murdoc curiously.

At the sight of Stuart, Noodle immediately pulled off her guitar, placing it quickly on the floor, and ran to the taller man with her arms out-stretched. "Stuu!" She squealed as Stuart hoisted her tiny form up above him with an excited grin on his face, and swung her around playfully. When Stuart finally set her down, she immediately turned to look inquisitively at Murdoc. Murdoc knew he was a rather intimidating sight, and so decided to soften his expression with a kind smile. "Alright Kiddo?" The bassist said as he stepped foreword and ruffled her hair. Noodle laughed a little upon finding that the man before her wasn't as scary as she had initially thought.

However when Murdoc pulled his hand away from Noodle's head, he noticed that the little girl's smile faded slightly as she stared up at him. Murdoc was immediately worried by the strange way she was observing him, with her head tilted inquisitively and slightly narrowed eyes. "What is it?" The bassist quickly asked as he automatically brought a hand to his face to feel for what atrocity was catching her attention. Noodle pointed to her own face, encircling her eye, then pointed at the same eye on Murdoc's face, turning to Stuart as she waggled her finger at the older man in order to silently ask how the bassist got the faded discolouration left from his previous black eye.

At this, Murdoc laughed loudly, crossing his arms. "How do I explain that some bloke in a club did a number on me?" He asked sarcastically, looking to Stuart. Stuart laughed in response, and thought for a moment before getting the attention of the little girl. When she looked to him, the singer balled his fist, and mimicked an explosion sound as he softly connected it with his own face to convey a punch. Noodle's mouth dropped open as she understood, and she immediately turned to Murdoc once more, curiously taking the man in with wide, innocent eyes.

The drummer raised an eyebrow at the older man, then looked to Stuart. He was used to Stuart bringing the occasional man home, but he never usually saw them the day after. "So..who's this then Stu?" He said, with an air of suspicion. Before Stuart spoke, Murdoc answered the drummer. "I'm Murdoc Niccals, front man of the band 'Murdoc's Burning Sensations' and Stuart's...friend. What's your name again? Wait! I know it.." Murdoc excitedly pointed to the drummer as he attempted to dig through his memories. "Ross?...Rissel?" He asked comically, trying to remember the name that was written below the drummer's stick figure on Noodle's drawing.

The larger man's face hardened. "It's Russel" he stated as he leant back on his chair, flashing Stuart a judging look at his strange choice in partners as he twirled his drum sticks in one hand. Russel wasn't going to try and engage in niceties, purely because the drummer gathered that after today, he wouldn't be seeing this new 'friend' of Stuart's again. Murdoc noticed the other man's slight annoyance, and furrowed his eyebrows. The bassist was only joking, but this man seemed to be more on the serious side.

"Anywaaay" Stuart said as he headed across the room towards the piano in the corner, hastily breaking the awkward silence. When the singer was finally sat at the piano stall, he pulled back the cover from over the keys, and looked to the rest of the band. "Shall we start practising?" He asked. Noodle smiled at the sight of the other man at the piano, gathering that they would begin playing again. She pulled her guitar back on, retuning it quickly.

Murdoc sat down casually at the sofa in order to listen, his legs widely parted, leaning his arm on the chairs back. After how good Stuart had sounded last night, he was very interested in the capability of the rest of the band. These guys must have something _very_ special, Murdoc judged, seeing as they already had the level of Stuart's talent in their midst. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about how long it has taken me to write this! Life and work happened. Next chapter will most likely be the final one of this fic


	14. Chapter 14

  
Russel counted them in by tapping his drumsticks together and then they began to play. Noodle's electric guitar ripped through the silence first, and she began to nod her head and stamp her foot to the rhythm when Russel's steady, clashing drum beat kicked in.

The timing was strange, and Murdoc picked up on it almost instantly. It sounded very good, but something was off, and the bassist couldn't quite put his finger on it. Murdoc leant foreword, sitting at the edge of the sofa as he listened intently, his music brain switching on. When the intro ended, Stuart, who didn't actually need the piano for this song, leant into the microphone strapped to the pianos side and began singing, reading every so often from a sheet of lyrics balanced on the music stand.

Murdoc didn't have the foggiest about what the singer was saying. Something about magic? Whatever it was, it was captivating, and strange. The way Stuart sang was dramatically different to yesterday, his vocals scratchy and raw, more like a rocker, Murdoc noticed. The velvet, calm tone of 'Tomorrow Comes Today' was replaced with a wild sound that the bassist admittedly found _extremely_ attractive. Murdoc couldn't help but tap his foot, despite the strange timing still very much in the back of his mind.

The chorus began to sound and Murdoc reeled at the sight of the young girl almost screaming the lyrics ' _she turned my dad onnn!'_ as she strummed. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, but simultaneously, he loved it. It was like watching a battle between Stuart and Noodle for the spotlight, and the angry, shrill singing they let out as they would vocally to and fro was nothing less than captivating.

When they finished, Noodle brushed back her wild hair from the furious head bobbing she had been doing, and smiled politely. Who knew something as abominable as that could be unleashed from such a small child, Murdoc wandered. Despite her age, Noodle was clearly a force to be reckoned with.

"Good one guys" Stuart voiced as he began to shuffle through papers placed on his piano, casually looking for the next song for them to practice. Russel nodded, and then leant down to adjust the position of the kick drum below him. It was all a normal days work for them, but Murdoc couldn't let that song slip by unnoticed. "Bravo!" Murdoc voiced joyfully as he quickly stood up from the sofa and clapped.

Stuart grinned as he looked at Murdoc from over the piano. "That was really good. Amazing in fact" Murdoc congratulated. Russel straightened on his stool and looked to the bassist. "Well.. thanks man" the drummer answered, awkwardly itching the back of his neck. Murdoc smiled, proceeding to walk towards the space between Noodle and Russel. "Just one thing-" Murdoc quickly voiced. "What's going on with the timing? Either you or Noodle are playing out of time". He didn't try to put it delicately. Murdoc never shied away from voicing his opinion, and in response to the bassist's outspokenness, Russel looked up at the man with a slightly quizzical expression.

"Well, no disrespect Murdoc, but that's the whole point. The song is called 5/4 _because_ of the timing" Russel explained, slightly annoyed that this strange man was now giving them unwarranted direction. Murdoc thought for a moment before he spoke up again. "Noodle, could you just play your part?" Murdoc asked the girl, gesturing to her guitar. Noodle obliged, pulling up her guitar and expertly playing the overriding riff. "Right. Now keep playing. Russel, could you play your beat?" Murdoc inquired. Russel huffed, and begrudgingly took out his sticks and began to drum over the sound of Noodle's playing.

After a few moments, Murdoc gestured for them to stop. "Yep. It's definitely out of time. Doesn't sound right" Murdoc voiced after this affirmation. Russel let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, man. The songs timing is _deliberate_ " Russel said, slight annoyance in his tone. Murdoc noticed the other man's discontent and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, okay. Keep your socks on. All i'm gonna say is a bit of bass would really get this song going. It's good now, don't get me wrong. I mean, the timing is a bit loopy but a roaring bass line would give it that extra bit of umph, you know? Get all the rockers headbanging 'til they have whiplash in no time" Murdoc explained.

Stuart quickly spoke up, getting up from the piano stall. "You know what Muds, I agree. Paula just started learning bass, she's got one in her room. I'm sure she'd be alright lending it to you for a bit" the singer proposed. Murdoc itched his arm awkwardly in responce. "Hm, I'm not too sure about that, Stu-" the bassist answered. "..Let's just say, we didn't have the most civilised of conversations the last time we met" Murdoc explained, averting eye contact. Stuart raised a judging eyebrow at the bassist from across the room. Murdoc seemed to make such a habit of incessantly rubbing people up the wrong way, it was almost a talent. "Well, i'll say it's for me then" Stuart sighed before heading towards the living room door and leaving to go to Paula's room.

  
When the singer came back downstairs not long after, Murdoc's eyes widened at the sight of Paula entering the room behind him. She looked particularly bedraggled, obviously still recovering from last night. She wore pyjamas despite it being late afternoon, and when she saw Murdoc, her eyes, blackened with yesterdays mascara, locked onto the man in an unrelenting, fiery glare. Gripped tightly in her hand was her glossy black bass guitar. Stuart looked sheepish as he stopped at the door beside Paula, obviously uncomfortable at the tense atmosphere that had suddenly gripped the room.

"I knew it was for you" Paula voiced, monotone, yet resoundingly threatening. Murdoc brought a hand to rub at his face im exasperation. "Oh for fucks sake..." The bassist grumbled under his breath. Murdoc then brought himself to look up at the woman, defiant, yet surprisingly calm. "Look. There's a kid in here. Let's not fight in front of a poor, innocent child" Murdoc comically exaggerated his concern for Noodle, the little girl frowning up at him. Beneath the act, Murdoc really wasn't in the mood for an argument, and this woman never failed to get him riled up. Paula's expression hardened. "Well, lets take it outside then" she voiced through gritted teeth.

Murdoc huffed as he obliged. This drama was something he had created, and it was about time that he settled it, despite his reluctance. He walked out into the hallway, Paula and Stuart entering after him, and the singer then closed the living room door behind them. Paula crossed her arms as she spoke. "What the hell are you playing at? You insult me, you lead Lorraine on, you treat Stuart like dirt and then show up at our house..It's not on" She spat, her bitterness sharpening every syllable.

Murdoc scoffed. "Look. I can't be arsed with this shit. Can I just pay you to get off my case? I'm not going to explain myself. All i'm gonna say, is i'm sorry for the things I said and did. Happy now? Good". At that, Murdoc went to leave back into the living room, his rising annoyance getting the better of him. However, before he could grasp the door handle, Stuart pulled Murdoc back by interlocking his hand with the bassist's. 

Murdoc turned, huffing as he was kept in Paula's presence by the taller man, his stance tense and angry, his eyes on the floor. Paula's gaze quickly flitted down to their holding hands and her eyes widened as it all suddenly clicked in her mind. Stuart smiled knowingly. He knew what Murdoc was failing to admit, and due to the bassist divulging exactly what had happened at the club last night during their long conversation, he also knew exactly why.

 Stuart spoke up quickly, clearly embarrassed about being in the middle of the whole drama, but simultaneously feeling the overriding need to help Murdoc out of this, voice what the bassist, with his prideful ways, clearly couldn't. "Paula, he did it all so he could _apologise_ to me" The singer hastily explained.

Paula let her arms fall to her sides, her face puzzled, but softening as Stuart engaged with her instead of the bassist. "Is that true?" Paula asked Stuart in a noticeably quieter tone. Stuart nodded. "Yeah. I mean, he was drunk, and he didn't actually want to fight with you, or upset Lorraine. It was all to get to me, to say sorry. And I forgive him" Stuart stated, looking down momentarily to smile at Murdoc as he squeezed the bassist's hand a little tighter.

Murdoc felt his cheeks flush at the sound of the taller man defending him, grasping Stuart's hand tighter in response. It wasn't often in Murdoc's life that people would defend the bassist, and he couldn't help but enjoy not having to fight his own battles for once. Paula took a moment to process this, and spoke up again once she'd fully gauged the situation. "..Alright, Stu. All I want is for you to be happy" She finally voiced sincerely.

Paula then looked to Murdoc, speaking directly to him with a slightly more hardened expression, leaning a little into the bassist's personal space to really make her point. "He's my best friend, Murdoc. So if I ever hear that you did something like that to him again, you won't be coming back here. Just know that" She threatened.

Murdoc levelled his hard stare with hers, a little taken aback at her outspoken aggression towards him. However, beneath it all, the bassist admittedly completely understood where she was coming from. He certainly wasn't proud of his actions over the past few months, and he knew he would eventually face the inevitable backlash. However, it had all lead him to Stuart, and for such a genuine, kind human being, Murdoc wouldn't hesitate in doing it all again.

Murdoc nodded, and his eyes widened when Paula suddenly held out her bass guitar, silently handing it to him. Murdoc looked to Paula as he took the guitar by the neck, and unwittingly, a small, humble smile crept onto his face. "Thanks, Paula" the bassist said to her, his tone genuine, his eyes conveying nothing but sincerity at the woman's small gesture of acceptance. Paula smiled, hugged Stuart and then left to go back upstairs, leaving the two men alone in the hallway.

After she was gone, Murdoc didn't hesitate in turning to the other man, resting the bass guitar against the wall beside them, and then placing a widely splayed hand to the middle of Stuart's chest. Stuart couldn't help but grin as Murdoc began slowly pushing him towards the wall of the hallway, the bassist's gaze seductive, his black, beady eyes below his fringe locking with Stuart's. Once Stuart's body was pressed against the wall, Murdoc placed his hands at both sides of the other man's face and kissed him with an eruption of unbridled passion.

Stuart let out a small sigh of relief as he leant into the sudden kiss, resting his arms on the bassist's strong shoulders and closing his eyes tightly. Murdoc leant his body up against the taller man, his finger tips running through Stuart's hair, brushing past the younger man's soft earlobes as they kissed, their hot, hastily taken breathes intertwining as they passionately tasted one anothers lips.

Murdoc lowered his head and began to kiss repeatedly at the singer's neck, and Stuart exhaled deeply through his nose as he leant into the contact. However, when Stuart felt Murdoc's warm tongue meet the sensitive skin of his neck, the singer suddenly regained awareness in the midst of their passion, realising the two of them weren't in the most favourable of places to share such a moment, seeing as Noodle or Russel could unwittingly enter the hallway at any minute.

When Murdoc went to kiss Stuart again, the singer, despite his growing need, slowly parted lips from the bassist's and leant his head against the wall, breathing heavily. Murdoc gave in, but his body remained connected with Stuart's, leaning into him. The two men's foreheads were intimately pressed together when Murdoc suddenly spoke up in a hushed tone. "I don't deserve you, Stuart" He whispered.

The singer smiled in response, his eyes glossy with tears, holding onto Murdoc tightly. Truth was, Murdoc still couldn't quite believe he held the other man's affections after all that had happened, the mess he had created. He was completely in awe of the fact that in spite of it all, Stuart still stood by him, held his hand, made him feel wanted; the singer had even defended him. It was all so new to the bassist, and nothing short of a blessing. Murdoc leant into the hug, feeling Stuart's warm chest, the slow, steady rhythm of the other man's heart beat against his own. He noticed as Stuart held him, that the singer never failed to make him feel safe, and for that, Murdoc didn't know if he could ever put the level of gratitude he felt into words.

After a few moments, Murdoc pulled away from Stuart, and bent down to pick up the bass leaning against the wall beside them. "Right-" The older man suddenly voiced when he straightened up with the bass in his hand, clearly sporting a new lease of life as he looked to Stuart with excitement in his eyes. The bassist chuckled when he saw that Stuart's hair was left hopelessly bedraggled after their kiss, and brought out his free hand to smooth down the other man's unruly blue strands as he spoke up once more. "Let's get back to your band practice" Murdoc stated, smiling as Stuart grinned back in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so turns out this will not be the final chapter lol. Next update soon, Maybe tomorrow cos I have a day off work :))


	15. Chapter 15

When they headed back into the living room, Noodle and Russel were playing a game of slaps. Russel burst out laughing when Noodle got him numerous times in succession, stopping the game momentarily to wipe tears away as he laughed heartily. With a lingering smile on his face, Stuart regained his position at the piano, and Noodle turned to see Murdoc putting on Paula's bass guitar. She instantly picked up on how Murdoc now appeared noticeably more dishevelled, as he placed the black guitar strap across his shoulder and tried his best to maintain somewhat of a poker face, despite the way Stuart occupied every one of his thoughts.

Stuart handed Murdoc a spare amp from behind the piano, and Murdoc then plugged it into the basses output jack. The bassist instinctively began to twang at the guitar, playing a few previously practised riffs to get a feel for the instrument, familiarise himself. Murdoc's face was serious, concentrating on the sound of the strings as he plucked them. He leant down to adjust the volume on the amp, and when he straightened up and his two fingers met the strings once again, he quickly judged that it now sounded a lot better, really rang out nicely.

Murdoc felt the floor vibrating beneath his feet as he strummed, and he began nodding his head slightly to the rhythm of his own playing as he got more comfortable, swiftly learning this particular basses sound. Although the glossy instrument he held was not quite as satisfying as the roaring sound and flaming red finish of his good old El Diablo, it was certainly good enough for now, and playing the bass always made Murdoc feel at one with himself. He finished the riff he was playing and his fingers slowly released their pressure from the frets.

"That.. was amazing".

Murdoc hadn't even noticed how the chatter within the room gradually died down as he had been playing, and was suddenly brought out of his music-induced trance to see all three members of Gorillaz staring up at him in bewilderment. Russel was the one that had spoken up to complement the bassist's playing, and the drummer was clearly completely in awe of Murdoc as he leant back on his drum stool, crossing his arms and staring up at the bass player with wide eyes. "..Can you play somethin' else? Maybe some Jaco Pastorius? You know 'Teen Town'?" Russel hastily asked Murdoc, his passion for Jazz showing in his excitement.

Murdoc scratched his head, thinking about the notes. "Erm.. Yeah, I used to play that one when I was a kid. Wait-" Before the bassist began fiddling with various finger positions, he had to take a moment to align the rhythm and notes in his head into melodic coherency. Eventually, he remembered, and Russel smiled widely as the bassist expertly strummed the iconic bass line that rang out across the entirety of the piece, chopping and changing itself, weaving around a steady rhythm with professionally played riffs and golden intermittent freestyle. "That's it!" Russel spoke up excitedly upon hearing the song, bobbing his head as he listened and quietly singing out the occasional melody over Murdoc's playing.

Murdoc grinned, continuing to play with enthusiasm. Eventually Russel couldn't help himself, and he picked up the drum sticks from the floor beside him and began to drum around the bassline. Being a huge Jazz fan, Russel knew exactly how the complicated drum pattern went, and both musician's sound melded very well together. It wasn't Murdoc's usual music type, but admittedly, he did have an appreciation for Jazz, and the songs polyphonic tune and twanging bass line would always take him back to his late-teens.

As Murdoc played, he realised for a moment that he felt like his younger self again. He remembered back to when he was a newly self-proclaimed rocker, and desperately wanted to establish his reputation as a head-banging, bass playing greabo from as early as he possibly could. However, whenever he'd frequent record shops, young Murdoc would ashamedly hide the occasional Jaco Pastorius or Marcus Miller record beneath his pile of Black Sabbath LP's, just in case any of his rocker friends saw his weakness for the smooth, ageing genre.

When they finished, Noodle clapped wildly for the two of them, a wide smile painted across her face at their spontaneous showcase of talent. Stuart joined in with her applause, and Murdoc laughed, turning to Russel. "I'm being honest here, they don't make drummers like you anymore, Russel. You seem like you really know your stuff, mate" Murdoc told the drummer. Russel smiled humbly as he responded. "Likewise, Murdoc".

Stuart, who had been watching the whole thing from behind the piano, felt his heart burst at the sight of Murdoc getting along so well with his band mates. It meant a lot, and although he didn't want it to end, he had to interrupt, seeing as it was already getting late and they hadn't fully practised yet.

"Shall we try out 5/4 again?" The singer asked. At this, Noodle let out an excited "yeaahh!" as she picked up her guitar and hastily put it back on. The little girl instantly began strumming the opening riff, and as she did, she walked towards Murdoc and stopped directly in front of him, biting her lip in concentration as her yellow plectrum brushed against the strings. Murdoc readied himself as he took in the girl's movements, placing his fingers at the correct frets and counting out the rhythm, trying to gauge where best to come in and start playing.

Eventually, Noodle gave the bassist a nod as she continued to play and Murdoc began strumming, trusting her judgement. He decided to play a similar riff at a lower octave, mimicking Noodle's movements, and he quickly found that the basses roaring sound complemented the electric guitars tone perfectly. The two guitarist's began to bounce off of each other, looking at one another every so often as they played, as if they had suddenly been transported to the expansive, risen platform of a concert stage. Murdoc laughed loudly as Noodle began her furious head-banging routine when Russel's drum beat kicked in, enjoying watching her unabashed enthusiasm for the song.

They sounded nothing short of exceptional together, and Stuart's singing was just the icing on the cake. Stuart sang with even more vigour now, picking up on how the songs much needed modification enhanced its rock sound ten fold. Murdoc knew his bass would transport the song to a whole new level of good, however, as he strummed, there was no time for feeling smug as the bassist felt his mind working rapidly, trying to maintain the alien 5/4 timing. Despite the songs complexity, Murdoc's initial concentration seemed to pay off, and he didn't miss a beat as he played. When the chorus kicked in, Murdoc even sang along, not caring one bit about his questionable vocal talent.

Murdoc hadn't felt this enflamed by music in far too long. 'Murdoc's Burning Sensations' had been fading from relevancy for a long time, and it was only recently that Murdoc had accepted the band embodying the bleak destiny of a rapidly sinking ship. His band mates never really cared for him, and really, there was nothing in it that excited him.

Of course, he liked the money, but recently any chance of a substantial payment was few and far between, and with money being Murdoc's main motivator, the lack of it meant the whole act had turned sour. It felt more akin to a chore, rather than something he could relish in calling his own. Right now, as he played with Noodle, Russel and Stuart, it was so natural, yet bursting with potential, as if they were at the epicentre of something that could soon explode. With these three beyond talented musicians, Murdoc felt he could take on the world.

Towards the final chorus, Russel's drumming got even louder, and he instinctively added some extra symbol crashes, taking creative liberties as he passionately added his own flavour to the main rhythm. Noodle and Stuart screamed out the last line and then folded when they had finished, breathing heavily from the effort of their singing, Noodle wearing a big, contented smirk on her face. Stuart looked to Murdoc, who was stood in shock for a few moments, his arms at his sides as he let the bass hang loosely on its strap across his torso.

All three musicians knew that had been the most incredible practise session they'd ever done, and most importantly, they knew now that they couldn't be without a final, extremely crucial component: Murdoc Niccals. Stuart quickly spoke up between his deep breaths, rubbing beads of sweat from his forehead. "Murdoc, do you wanna be in our band?" He asked, speaking without even thinking, his voice tentative, yet the question seemed to resound within the confines of the room. Noodle and Russel quickly turned to see the bassist's reaction.

"I thought you'd never ask, Stu" Murdoc affirmed, a wide grin creeping across his face.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! The final chapter. Thank you so much for reading my second fic people, i appreciate it. if you wanna follow me on tumblr its Murdocisurproblematicfav so yeah! I wil probably be writing a lot more stuff in the future (i already have a lot of ideas) so i'll definitely be back lol


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